


Stupid Sexy Jon Snow -

by A_Cold_Wind_Blows



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Coming of Age, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Group Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jon Snow is a manslut, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Lots of Accidental Voyeurism, Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging (light), Roommates, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Some Humor, Some angst, Statutory Rape, Step-Sibling Incest, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Virginity Kink, Voyeurism, swinging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:12:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 99,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Cold_Wind_Blows/pseuds/A_Cold_Wind_Blows
Summary: Sansa Stark moves far away from her troubles in New York to the sunny coasts of San Francisco! New life, new school, new Sansa! She even has her little sister Arya to show her the ropes. The only problem is her other roommate Jon Snow...-OR-Sansa struggles with living with her sort of brother Jon Snow now that he's become a tall, handsome, square-jawed set of abs who never wears a shirts and spends his nights very loudly fucking half the female population of California one thin wall over from her bedroom.-OR-Sansa is thirsty as hell for Jon's cut bod until one day it becomes more.





	1. Chapter 1 - Val

**Author's Note:**

> This is smut. Depraved, explicit, unfiltered smut. But there will be fluff and story underneath. I promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa faces a heart-racing welcome from Jon and some blonde.

  
Sansa stared out across the concourse, trying to see if she could spot Arya among the swarms of people.  
   
The last Sansa had seen her sister was over Christmas, when Arya offered to take Sansa in and away from her troubles back at King’s Landing College. She had dressed the entire holiday break in a dark green hoodie with the tour schedule for one of her favorite bands on the back. Only on Christmas morning did she wear a nice pale-gold pleated dress that Mother had bought her and she quickly pulled her trusted hoodie over the delicate garment the moment she was permitted.  
   
So Sansa was stunned when she came face-to-face with a petite catalog model wearing a powder blue crop top with lace edgings on the bottom. The black high-waisted jean shorts matched well with her navy-blue leggings and a long, light brown cardigan that went down to her knees completing the ensemble. Her hair was still chin-length, having never been longer since she was 8, but now the familiar dark brown had a refined blue ombre color on the ends that Sansa’s auburn locks could never pull off.

The only parts of her sister that Sansa recognized was the thick, black combat boots that she had worn from the age 12 onwards, and the cool grey eyes of their father.  
   
“By the gods, Arya Stark is that you? You look gor-“  
   
“Hurry up the hell up! Grab your bag stupid! I’m parked illegally!”  
   
That seemed more like the little sister she remembered.  
   
Sansa shook her shock away and followed, pulling along her wheelie bag that contained her every worldly possession, which consisted mostly of outfits, makeup, her hair dryer, her laptop, and a few mementos of her father. Everything else she left behind her. Everything else was best forgotten. 

When they pulled away from the airport and onto the highway Arya gave a whoop of celebration and finally smiled.  
   
“Well you did it! Welcome to sunny California!”  
   
Despite her annoyance at Arya’s completely predictable bluntness, Sansa couldn’t help but smile too as she relaxed against the car door. The water made for a serene picture as they drove down the freeway and Sansa already felt some tension leave her bones.  
   
Some sun would be nice. A few mountain hiking trails. Maybe she would buy a bike. The beach was already calling out to her and her new bikini, and she was honestly excited for the Fashion Design program she would be pursuing at Oldtown University. Her advisor had emailed her three days ago saying that he had been a friend of her father’s and was excited by her portfolio, which only reaffirmed her decision to move across the country.  
   
Here she could start again and become the person she was supposed to be.  
   
“The view is beautiful. I can’t get enough of that bay…” Sansa sighed wistfully.  
   
“You’ll get sick of it soon enough. The Bay is the only reason it ever gets cold out here, otherwise it would be warm and perfect all the time.”  
   
“Where is Jon?” Sansa asked. She was looking forward to catching up with him.  
   
“He had to work. He’s excited to have you though, promise.”  
   
Even though Arya had made the offer, it was really Jon that made this move possible. 

Money had already become tight when father died three years ago, but in the past year things had progressed from bad to worse. Robb had been unable to stop an under-the-table takeover of Stag and Stark Inc. by Lannister Mercantile Bank, just as they’d been threatening for months. They had waited for the perfect moment, when Robb’s position as CEO was most vulnerable, before swooping in with an anonymous investor who helped cover the billion-dollar cost of the buyout.  
   
Robb became distraught and shut himself off from the rest of the family, running away with his “Vegas wife” to the Tully summer home in Ireland, meanwhile Mother had been scrambling with her attorneys and Uncle Brynden, trying to find a way to make sure that none of these changes would affect Sansa or her siblings. Bran especially, as he needed so much special care with his wheelchair, and Sansa worried at times that Rickon might have some sort of ADHD and would need special attention. Sansa had offered to drop out of school, to “help the family,” her true reasons for wanting to leave school staying a secret.  
   
“Absolutely not. I’ll sell the house and starve myself before I ever let any of my children miss out on a good education.” Mother’s tone had been harsher than usual lately, but Sansa forgave her that. She had endured so much for them.  
   
“Then maybe I’ll transfer to a cheaper school,” Sansa compromised, looking across the dining table littered with bills and bank statements. “You’re paying for my tuition and my board and my books and even my credit cards. If I go somewhere else, I can apply for scholarships, maybe even some loan programs. Get a part-time job maybe-”  
   
“King’s Landing College is the best school in the country-“  
   
“-and the most expensive. I could easily transfer to Eyrie Tech, or Blackvale South, or even somewhere further away like Brightwater-"  
   
“She should come to San Francisco, with me and Jon.”  
   
They both turned to Arya who was pulling a water bottle out of the refrigerator. Still in that hoodie, though now with cotton shorts instead of jeans since it was summer.  
   
“Oldtown University has a pretty good design program, my friend Donella is in it. She says it’s super affordable, and if Sansa lives with me and Jon, the rent would be cheaper than boarding at King’s Landing, or anywhere else in New York for that matter.”  
   
Mother opened her mouth to protest but then bit her lip. She had a hard time refusing Arya in recent years.  
   
After father died, the family had raged and cried and tore themselves apart with despair, but of all the Stark children, Arya took the loss the hardest. Bran was sad, but somehow able to endure it, most likely because he had already gone through so much hardship from his car accident. Rickon was young enough to adjust. Robb was Robb. Sansa was strong for mother and focused on Joffrey.  
   
Arya became despondent. At only 14 she started drinking and staying out all night, skipping classes and getting into fights, even messing around with sketchy older boys. Most frighteningly she would come home with bruises up her arms and legs, which mother wanted to believe were from Lacrosse practice, were it not for the fact that Coach Cassel had already sent a letter home explaining that Arya had skipped so much that she was kicked off the team. Mother was so preoccupied with helping Robb and caring for Bran and Rickon, that more than once Sansa had to be the one to scold her, which only made Arya rebel more.  
   
It was only after Jon came to Winterfell for the funeral months later, the police finally finished with their autopsy, that someone broke through to Arya. She and Jon sat with mother and had a long talk that Sansa wasn’t privy to (though she’d tried listening through the vent in her room) and afterwards it was all somehow decided. Arya would leave her expensive private school to go to some new-age Academy for the Arts that she’d found on the internet. At the time Jon had dropped out of school and was living with some roommates only a few miles from the school, so he promised to keep an eye on her and act as a sort of de-facto guardian.  
   
That’s when Sansa knew things were really bad.  
   
Mother had always been… chilly with Jon, in a way that she couldn’t hide even from her own children. Robb always tried to shield Bran and Rickon from it, but Sansa was a mama’s girl and knew mother’s mind better than the others. Though Jon never got in trouble, never caused them any difficulties or drama, he was always father’s son and not Catelyn Stark’s. She would never see him that way, let alone try to love him. When Jon graduated high school, he’d immediately moved across the country for school. Sansa could tell mother was as glad of it as Bran and Arya were crushed.  
   
The fact that she would turn to Jon and allow him take Arya in, take her away from where mother could keep an eye on her, was basically an admission that she had no control over her daughter. Only father was ever able to reach Arya when she went inside herself, and instead of mother taking up the duty when he died, Jon did. It was like he had a piece of Eddard Stark that even his wife didn’t.  
   
So to have another daughter turn to Jon Snow for help must have stung mother’s pride, yet she found the grace to put it aside and agreed. Because Family always came first.  
   
“I’m going to miss you so much my little princess,” Catelyn had whispered the night before her flight, brushing Sansa’s hair in front of her old high school vanity. They hadn't done something like that in ages, not since Sansa was in middle school, but she was too comforted to be embarrassed.  
   
“It’ll be fine mother. Just keep helping Robb get the company back. Focus on Bran. Focus on Rickon.”  
   
“But what about you?”  
   
“I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” Sansa was practiced at fake smiles then. If mother knew any of the things that had happened at school, that had happened with Joffrey, with Margaery… with Uncle Petyr… it would probably be the final straw that killed her.  
   
Mother nodded at her words, grateful and smiling before her expression became uncomfortable. “And keep an eye on Arya. I want to make sure she’s doing alright.”  
   
“She’s fine mother,” Sansa laughed. “I mean, she’s the one helping me now, really. She gets good grades at her new school, doesn’t she?”  
   
“Yes, a school where I’ve never met the teachers or joined their PTA.” Mother’s voice was filled with frustration and guilt. “For nearly four years Jon Snow has been there for Arya and now with both of you living with him, it will be up to you to make sure he doesn’t-“  
   
“Mother,” Sansa cut her off before she said something embarrassing. “Jon cares for Arya and-” She only paused for a moment, “-and he cares for me too. Arya has really found herself I think. Maybe California will rub off on me and I’ll find myself too.”  
   
As Sansa thought more and more on her poor mother back home in Connecticut, she glanced over at Arya again, amazed at how different she looked. All her life Arya had insisted on dressing like a boy, acting like a boy, and only wearing dresses when father or mother made her for special occasions.  
   
No one would ever say she was as pretty as Sansa at that age (Sansa felt bad the moment that thought crossed her mind), but Arya was unmistakably blossoming. Along with her new clothes, Sansa noticed she was actually wearing a little mascara and even some eye shadow that had a light blue tint. She had a liquid lipstick on that complimented her skin tone well, and her skin was gleaming in a way that could only be accomplished by good contouring.  
   
Her accessories were on point as well. Colorful bracelets and old concert passes adorned her wrists, silver rings with stones of jet and twisting patterns on her fingers, and a black lace choker with a silver charm in the middle. They were a little more Underground Concert in Brooklyn than Sansa’s usual Fashion-Forward Manhattan Debutante, but it was cute. She wondered who had taught her. She knew she hadn’t, and she couldn’t imagine Jon doing it.  
   
“So, what’s the plan?” Sansa asked with a smile.  
   
“We’ll grab dinner at this place I know, best fucking tacos, and then I was thinking a walk along West Sphinx Beach before we go over to your new hoooome.” Arya's voice took on a little sing-song quality at the end that made Sansa shake her head and giggle.  
   
“It's so crazy, I can’t believe I’m actually here... it’s just you and Jon right?”  
   
“Yep. It’s a two-bedroom place. Our third roommate Sam shared with Jon but then he got whipped and moved in with a girl.”  
   
“Oh. So I’ll be sharing with you?” That part of the arrangement must have gotten lost in translation at some point.  
   
“Well you could share with Jon instead if you’re into that sort of-” Arya paused, a look that Sansa didn’t recognize in her eye, “-erm, never mind. Yeah, we gotta room together, sorry if that cramps your style.”  
   
“No, no, that- it’s great,” Sansa recovered quickly she hoped. If the idea was fine with Arya, then it would be fine with her. She was the older sister. She should be the mature one. “You and Jon are doing me a real favor here, so I’m not going to complain.”  
   
“Favor for you? Mom said you were doing this as a favor for her. To help save money for Bran.” Sansa had the lie prepared.  
   
“Well yes, that’s the main reason, but I was also getting frustrated with the program at King’s Landing. It was too much about the business side of the fashion industry and not enough about the designing itself,” Sansa's words were practiced and precise. “Oldtown focuses more on teaching history of colors and patterns and the creative process and some of the labs look really cool. I’m really excited for the hands-on stuff. Less papers and more sewing I say!”  
   
“Your words are lame gibberish to me but hear hear!” They both giggled then for no reason other than each other. Like sisters.

Sansa couldn’t remember Arya ever responding so positively whenever she talked about her interests. Usually her little sister would have some smart remark or just shouted “Boring!” at her. Arya always carried an anger inside of her that often managed to end up focused on Sansa.  
   
Yet now Arya seemed… unburdened. Lighter. Happier.  
   
Sansa was as pleased as she was envious.  
   
Arya’s phone dinged then and she asked Sansa to read the text to her. The message was from a Lommy “Greenhands” (that couldn’t be his real name, Sansa thought) saying that he couldn’t find their presentation. A second text came in as she was reading out loud that simply said, “We’re fucked. Halp?”  
   
“Shit fuck!” Arya shouted, startling Sansa into dropping the phone. “Goddamn idiot motherfucker!”  
   
“Arya!”  
   
“No Sansa, the only reason I was able to pick you up today is because I’m missing a class, which was fine because it’s presentation day and Lommy said he would take care of it.” Arya suddenly sped up and started cutting across three lanes to make a quick exit. Sansa felt her heart jump into her throat.  
   
“But if the fucking idiot doesn’t have the fucking Powerpoint I made him, he won’t be able to do shit because he’s a fucking idiot, and then we’ll get an F on the project instead of my needed C+ or higher. That’s going to knock my average down from an A to a B- and I will not have that! Not in Mr. Yoren’s class.”  
   
“So no dinner then?” Sansa asked with her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see the view anymore. Or Arya’s driving.  
   
“I’m really sorry. I’ll just drop you off at the apartment, and then I’ll come after I’m done and we can do dinner then.”  
   
“No, no, it’s alright.” Sansa just wanted the ride to be over.  
   
Fifteen terrifying minutes later Arya pulled into a parking spot (dazzling Sansa with her strange magical skills that she called “parallel parking”) and got out of the car, rushing Sansa out with her bags and into a doorway. It was four steps from the parking spot.  
   
“You have a spot right in front of your apartment? I thought that was impossible in real life.”  
   
“Jon has a really good set up here.” Arya said as an explanation. “So maybe don’t cramp his style, okay?”  
   
It was meant as a joke but it made Sansa wonder. The entire time she’d thought about this trip (“No, not a trip, this is your new life,” she chastised herself) she had only ever thought about Arya as a roommate, living with her sister again like they did when they were kids, and escaping all the bad memories at her old school. In concept she knew she was going to live with Jon, their father’s adopted ward and Robb’s best friend growing up, but now she was struck by the idea of actually living with him. Living with Jon… the person.  
   
“We need to get on the elevator, we’re up on the top floor,” Arya lead her into an old-fashioned machine with an iron gate that she closed by hand.  
   
“How is it? Living with Jon?” Sansa felt foolish for only thinking to ask now when she had already travelled across the country and there was no turning back.  
   
“It’s great! I love it a lot.”  
   
“Yes but, does he have any annoying habits I should prepare myself for?”  
   
“No, no, he’s super chill. Better than the shitheads I had in student housing. I was practically in tears when mom said I could live with him and Sam. He’s very sweet and thoughtful and clean. It’s like having a tall, hairy maid around all the time who you can bully into making you dinner and giving you back rubs.”  
   
“Wow, so the perfect roommate, no complaints?” Sansa wished she didn’t sound so suspicious, but life had thrown her through the wringer one too many times.  
   
“Well… the apartment can get really hot, and there’s no AC, so sometimes Jon walks around without a shirt and stuff but-” Arya paused there, eying Sansa again with that strange look again.  
   
“But what?”  
   
“But I let him do it. We only have three fans and he let me put them all in my room, which is now our room. So I cut him a little slack. Are you gonna be a prude about it?”  
   
“What!?” Now Sansa had to laugh. “Arya, I lived with three brothers. I actually volunteered to change Rickon’s diapers, unlike you. And Robb and I shared a room for two summers when we were renovating the beach house, remember? Theon Greyjoy and Cley Cerwyn would come over practically every night and leave their underwear lying around the bathroom. I can deal with living with a gross boy.”  
   
Arya giggled as the elevator doors opened. “Good. Jon is being really nice you know? Try to remember that this is his place, not ours. We’re not paying our share of the rent, mom is. That means his place, his rules, and since he’s a guy, sometimes he can be gross. You gotta not freak out about it.”  
   
“Arya, I get it.” Sansa was getting annoyed now. She wasn’t made of tea doilies! “I lived in a dorm last year you know.”  
   
“Yeah, with some fuckhead freshmen and sorority girls,” Arya said as they stopped in front of a door marked 4-D, Arya fitting a key into the door handle. “Living with Jon can be a little -”  
   
“UUUUUGHHHHHH!!!!!”  
   
Sansa and Arya jumped at the screaming, greeted by a sight that made Sansa’s heart freeze and all the blood in her body pool below her belly.  
   
Growing up, Jon was always just one of Robb’s friends. Nothing more. She understood that Jon was family in a way, Father in fact made Jon his ward before Robb was even born, but she never really thought about Jon when it came to family. When it came to home. He was just… there. A skinny kid with glasses and messy, greasy hair, who would sometimes play with Arya or babysit Bran, but most often shadowed Robb and whatever he was doing.  
   
His clothes never fit right, his skin was always pale and covered in acne, and he never smiled. Like Sansa couldn’t think of a single time he just enjoyed himself and had fun. Honestly by the time Sansa was in high school she thought he was kind of a loser, even when she was a lowly freshman and him a senior. The few times he had visited Winterfell since then, she’d noticed he was a little taller, his skin was a little clearer, but he was still boring, dependable, skinny Jon Snow.  
   
This male eye candy was unrecognizable.  
   
Two bulky arms corded with thick, tight biceps connected to a wide, broad expanse of smooth, sweaty skin. The mass that made up his shoulder blades looked like they were chiseled from granite. Female hands were digging deep, white lines down the smooth planes of his back in a futile attempt at restraining him.  
   
The muscles below his back pulsed in a gross yet hypnotic way as his grip brutally tightened around the poor girl’s slim, quickly pinkening thighs. His knuckles were turning white. Her back was smearing the wall in sweat.  
   
But the real prize was his butt. Not only was it a good butt, meaty yet tight (“An ass you want to take a bite out of,” Margaery might say) but it looked strong. Evidentially very strong. Jon’s thrusting went on with no abatement or pause. No quarter was given to his victim. The fervor in his movements frightened her, so much so that a part of Sansa might have thought that the girl might not be a willing partner if it weren’t for the clearly pleased sounds she was making.  
   
Though most startling to Sansa was the look on Jon’s face. It was so foreign on his face that she didn’t recognize at first. He was smiling. Grinning in fact. Instead of the familiar pimples and frowns from his teen years, Jon had a thick, dark 5 o’clock shadow and a confident, Byronic gleam in his eye that bordered on arrogant.  
   
Clearly five years in California had agreed with him.  
   
The girl in question was harder to observe as she kept shaking her head and screeching, her eyes going from focused to manic then back again to focused. Rinse and repeat.  
   
Later, when her head was on straight, Sansa would logically reason that it was just a few seconds, ten at most, rather than the endless purgatory it felt like before Arya finally found the power to shout over the girl’s screams. Only then did Jon stop.  
   
“SANSA AND ARYA STARK ARE HERE!!!” Arya bellowed, one hand cupped at the side of her mouth, the other pressing the doorbell as she tried to get his attention.  
   
“Wha-?!”  
   
Rather than turn and show them his front as Sansa expected (and dreaded, she told herself), Jon simply turned around, girl and all. As he faced them, his balance tipped forward for a moment but he quickly steadied with a step. The girl’s back was a little red from rubbing on the wall and she had a tattoo of some letters going down the line of her spine but her long hair blocked enough that Sansa couldn’t read it. Her hair was a pretty, golden-blonde color that still managed to shine even whilst matted in sweat.  
   
Even when carrying her, Jon didn’t look winded. Sweaty. Very sweaty. Like disgustingly sweaty. But it was apparent even to Sansa that the girl weighed practically nothing to him. His grip on her thighs didn’t even slip.  
   
“Wha- I thought- you’re not-” Jon’s words were cut off by a sudden sharp slap to the cheek.  
   
“Hey! Did I fucking say sto-ooOHHH! HELLO THERE!” The woman shrieked when she noticed them, her face rapidly going from dazed to alarmed “What a silly thing I didn’t say just now that will not be repeated!!”  
   
“They won’t- she’s- her name is Val and-”  
   
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Arya and the woman shouted at the same time.  
   
It was effective, as Jon then had the sense to scurry away, the girl still clinging to his chest. As soon as the bedroom door was closed, Sansa’s breathing returned.  
   
“That was Jon? When did he… how is he…” She tried her hardest but couldn’t find the words. Arya cut in between the fifth or sixth attempt.  
   
“Well I guess that’s one way to address it,” Arya chuckled, acting cool and pretending like she wasn’t blushing just as much as Sansa. “Now you know the one drawback I was trying to avoid telling you.”  
   
“You’ve caught him like this before.” It wasn’t a question. “How many times?”  
   
Arya shrugged. “I lost count around five.”  
   
Sansa was… whatever the 21st century version of being scandalized was. 

“What is the matter with this Val woman?” She muttered. “Is she a dog in heat?”  
   
Arya looked angry for the first time. “Jon is Jon, but don’t blame Val for his bullshit. She’s actually really cool. This is the first time I’ve even seen her, well, like that. I mean she babysits me sometimes, though Jon pretends we’re hanging out like friends or some shit even though she’s way older-”  
   
“Wait, wait, I’m confused. If you didn’t know he and Val were dating, then who do you keep catching him with?”  
   
Sansa already knew the answer to her own question yet Arya went on.  
   
“Jon doesn’t really date in the, um, traditional sense…”

“You mean he messes around with girls.” Sansa wished her voice didn’t sound so judgmental. 

“It’s not really him, it’s like… some roommates don’t do dishes, some leave food out to go bad, and Jon… Jon can’t say no to girls… like ever…”  
   
Jon Snow, her father’s ward, Arya’s adoptive brother, Robb’s best friend, the solemn orphan boy who redefined the concept of carrying a chip on your shoulder.

All grown up into a slut.  
   
“I should have stayed in New York.” 


	2. Chapter 2 - Gym Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's been living with Jon for a month now and she thinks she understands him better... for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, I changed the chapter number on this story to 7 because this was actually going to have more stuff, but the chapter was getting so long that I decided to break it in two. So if you were wondering when the six became seven, that was why.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy Sansa's inner conflicts! Sansa and Jon become more fleshed out this chapter I think, which I believe some commenters will appreciate.

Jon shook the sweat out of his long, curling locks, bouncing from foot to foot before he nodded to show he was ready. Suddenly he lunged at the woman but she got her hands up in time before pumping her leg up and kicking Jon squarely in the neck. He went down but did a fancy roll where he popped up at the end like an action star and all the other classmates visibly swallowed at the sight.

She kicked Jon in the neck again, though this time he blocked it with the back of his arm and nodded in appreciation. Zei opted for a different approach this time, gripping Jon by the collar and falling back with him, executing a perfect “roll-thing” as Sansa liked to call it in her head before slamming Jon back on the mat.

 _“How like Zei,”_ Sansa thought to herself. _“Always wanting to be on top.”_

“Excellent technique, you turned his weight against him. That’s key when fighting an attacker who is larger than you.”

The fire was gone from Zei’s eyes at the instructor’s words, replaced with a girlish excitement as she jumped up and down on Jon’s lap at being complimented by the former MMA fighter. The movements were innocent of course. Zei was just one of those people who was sexual in everything she did, even the innocent stuff. Jon for his part kept his hands on her upper back while he was congratulating her.

Though Zei was one of those tall, elegant, sharp-faced model types, she shattered all of Sansa’s preconceived notions by being into hardcore survival hunting and bass fishing as well as being generally more aggressive than most of the men Sansa had met. It took Sansa a while to draw these conclusions about the woman, as her first impression completely threw Sansa for a loop. But then there really wasn’t any good way to learn about a person’s inner character when they were on their knees giving a guy head in the shower. (Sansa thought Jon was alone and she had really needed to pee!)

Sansa couldn’t hold that against Zei though, that was more on Jon. Though Jon had one night stands and little short lived casual relationships like a normal person, he also had a bevy of “intimate friends” as he liked to call them who were basically just friends with benefits. Sometimes they would see a movie, or play video games, or go on hikes together, like friends do, but the days would always end the same. In Jon’s bedroom. 

Zei herself was a hiker but she also had a beautiful singing voice which Sansa only knew because Zei was the only one who was willing to join Sansa in a duet of Barbie Girl when Jon had invited her and Arya to come out to Karaoke with them. Sansa thought at first that she didn’t want to intrude on their “date” but once Arya agreed to come, she saw no reason not to join. The sight of Jon struggling through “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” alone had made it all worth it. 

After that night, Zei was growing to be one of her favorites among Jon’s regular “callers” as Arya named them. Bethany was a little too into her own music, Marei didn’t have a sense of humor to save a cat, and Alayaya couldn’t hold a conversation for longer than seven minutes before she started chattering on about her new nipple rings and how she recommended them for everyone (which, no, just no.)

Jon was letting one of the newer students try a couple of attacks on him and Sansa was fascinated once more at the giant smile he always wore as women kicked him in the face and punched him in the groin and tried to find a way to throw him onto his back like a sack of rice. She thought at first he was one of those weird masochist types but it was clear now that whatever thing was going on with Jon was more complicated than any pain stuff that she could simply look up on the internet or read Fifty Shades of Grey to understand.

Of course, the genius of this job was that Jon met a lot of beautiful athletic girls. 

The way Jon had explained it was “Assistant Self-Defense Instructor” but it was more accurate to call Jon “Crash Test Dummy.” Whenever Dacey Mormont, the real instructor with training in Krav Maga, Judo, and Muay Thai Boxing, taught a new move for her self-defense class, everyone would get a chance to try it at least once on Jon. He was a big guy but not huge, more “top-heavy swimmer” than “Kansas Linebacker,” so he was perfectly compact enough to throw around while big enough to effectively simulate a real life attack. After Sansa saw the first class, she felt she understood more about “Stupid Sexy Jon Snow” as she now called him in her mind.

One was that his motives in some part truly were pure. He experienced a genuine inner joy at feeling like he was helping these women take control of their own safety and agency. Many of the classmates were obviously mooning over him, but he never took it easy on them or flirted with them in class. He always focused and challenged them and tried to encourage them to not hold back, reasoning that in real life they couldn’t.

But the class was also a key part to his man-slut powers.

Most of the girls Jon “dated” came from the self-defense class, the rest coming from Jon’s other job with the United States Park Police. Though Jon was technically still in school, the last part of his program was an internship with the USPP that would eventually lead to “rookie assignment” in one of San Francisco’s National Parks. So Jon did rounds with rotating partners as a sort of try-out that would eventually lead to the real thing once he graduated. Apparently the job consisted mostly of walking trails and directing cute hiking enthusiasts to park exits so it was going to be a perfect fit for Jon.

And Jon having a life plan beside getting laid all the time had been the biggest relief to Sansa, Arya finding it hysterical when she was dense enough to say such thoughts out loud to her sister. A month after the Val incident and first moving here, Sansa felt like she was adjusting well to her new life, her new school, schoolmates… but Jon was still giving her a bit of a hard time. She was looking for the catch, the secret that would show what Jon was really doing with all these girls, what ghost he was fighting or inner problem he was trying to solve with this bottomless pit of casual sex, but Jon was actually pretty well-adjusted.

He had a job. He was set to graduate on time with good grades. He woke up early every morning to go for a half-hour run and then make Arya breakfast (this gesture included making Sansa breakfast now as well which was an amazingly sweet surprise) and always checked that she was doing her homework assignments at night. He had guy friends he went drinking with (and the group included some girls) and hobbies when he wanted to be alone. In a way Sansa envied Jon. He seemed to have everything figured out and had grown very comfortable in his own skin. He had this energy about him that made it seem like maybe life wasn’t so hard, that everyone could just take the time to smell the roses and enjoy it. He had nothing to prove, no ego about himself, no insecurities, just… Jon. It was a strangely simple yet appealing energy.

The problem was that it was clearly too appealing.

As Jon held up two arm guards, Zei punched back and forth like a machine between the two pads, the rapid, repetitive motion inevitably drawing Sansa’s memory back to four days ago when she and Jon had previously worked out together.

There was no catching them in the living room or the bathroom this time. Sansa and Arya were sitting on their separate beds quietly studying when they heard the front door open and the sounds of laughter. It wasn’t even ten minutes later that the moans started, followed by the light thumps of skin on skin and Jon’s Computer chair rolling back and forth in spot as Zei rode him. After three weeks, Sansa now knew what every piece of furniture in Jon’s bedroom sounded like when faced with vigorous activity.

But worse than the sex noise was the dirty talk.

“Quit pawing at my nipples, you’re going to make me come too early…” Zei purred, sex dripping from every syllable even through the wall.

“Stop squirming so much and I won’t have to…” Jon purred back. Sansa first heard that voice when Jon was having sex with Val on that first day and it had really made her face burn red hot, but now at the dozenth listen, she’d grown more accustomed to it.

“I tooooold you, if you play with my nipples I come too faaaaast,” Zei pretended to complain, the squeaking sounds speeding up. “Annnnnnd I want… this… to… la-laassst, hey st-stop that…”

 _”She asked very politely Jon, only seems fair,”_ Sansa reasoned.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help myself when it comes to those nipples,” Jon gruffed. 

_”Lame excuse Jon.”_

“Well then find something else to do with those pesky ha-haaaandssss…” 

_”Oh Zei, you can’t give Jon an opening like that.”_

Ten seconds later Zei gave a high-pitched cry before making a low guttural sound that Sansa guessed meant she finished or had some other crazy sex goal achieved that Sansa didn’t know about. After knowing Jon these past weeks, she felt like she didn’t know anything about sex.

“You touched my nasty spot!” Zei whispered in scandal. “Don’t do it again naughty boy…” 

_”Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”_

Sansa must have sighed too loudly because Arya chuckled and gave her an arrogant look that little sisters shouldn’t ever be allowed give their older sisters. Taking her lead from Jon like she did for everything, Arya tended to laze around the apartment in as little clothes as possible, whenever possible. Supposedly to fight the heat but Sansa wasn’t sure.

As soon as Zei and Jon had started making some commotion, Arya had put her notes away and grabbed her electric bass guitar, plugging in some expensive head phones on the side so only she could hear the notes as she practiced. Plus, the noise-cancelling effect was an essential part of covering the sex noises. While Sansa struggled to even read a sentence in her Art History textbook, Arya laid horizontally across her bed in a pair of neon green short shorts and a peach half-tank that left the under part of her breasts to peek out a bit. The kind of outfit that Arya could wear since she was so slim and small but if Sansa wore it she would look like a pin-up calendar. The guitar was laid across her lap while Arya laid her neck against the wall in such a sharp 90-degree angle that it reminded Sansa how badly she needed to find a good yoga class.

“What, do you find something entertaining about my joke of a life?” Sansa asked with a grump in her voice.

“Absolutely,” Arya said. “Hey, tell me, are they still in the chair or have they gotten to the anal yet?”

It was still hard for Sansa to adjust to her little sister talking so openly about sex, but after three weeks Sansa had adjusted enough to at least stop always being a moment away from fainting. At first she had felt that Jon was letting Arya grow up too fast, but then later realized that all of the Stark children had been forced to group up before they were ready, maybe Jon more than any of them. Arya had friends, good grades, and dreams. So what if she also talked about sex a lot? At least she was still a virgin (as Arya had shared with her over her one supervised glass of wine with Sansa while Jon slept over at the girl’s place for once).

“Still in the chair but based on the sounds of things, they’re building up to it,” Sansa sighed.

“Ooof, you better hope she’s too tired to do it, otherwise that wall by your bed is going to get very loud for at least fifteen minutes. She can keep a lid on it for the most part for regular sex, but butt stuff always makes her scream. And Jon gets excited and rougher so the bed usually bangs against the wall.”

Sansa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Dear gods, this is all too much.”

“It’s okay. You’ll adjust. I did.” Arya plucked the strings a bit even though she couldn’t hear the notes now with the headphones off. “Though I had Sam to help. I’ll help you, but I can’t promise I’ll be as good as Sam. You just have to find something to distract yourself.”

“Or someone could ask them to be more quiet, maybe someone who has actually met and spoken with Zei?”

Arya frowned, already gearing up to defend Jon like she always did, though then she smiled instead of going on a tirade.

“Sansa, when I first met Zei, I knew she was going to be a loud one, cause she’s not as smart as some of Jon’s other callers,” Arya grimaced. “Shit, that was a fucking bitch thing to say but it’s for real. Like, she just is not at the same coolness level as Val or Wylla Manderly.”

Sansa felt herself tick at both of those names. Sansa just couldn’t like Val, and she was actually the one to introduce Wylla to Jon’s Self Defense class, though this was before she found out it was where Jon worked his sex magic. Sansa still felt bad about how she spat her coffee onto a complaining Arya’s shirt the next morning, when the green-haired, politically overactive, eco-conscious Wylla Manderly from Sansa’s early morning MicroBio class came out of Jon’s room wearing nothing but his “Meat is Murder, Delicious, Delicious Murder,” t-shirt and a thong. It was like she’d served the poor girl up to Jon on a silver platter.

“So because of her, I bought these headphones, and to justify the cost, I asked my advisor if I could start up an instrument along with my dance classes and he recommended the Cello Bass and Bass Guitar.”

Arya stood up then, adjusting the strap on her guitar before continuing. “Sansa, I now love this instrument more than life itself. I can’t imagine not playing the bass anymore. I will be buried with this. If you and this bass fell into a river, I would rescue it first. Look at me when I’m holding this thing, when I’m playing it, and look how fucking dope I look.”

Arya did a little playful pirouette before continuing. “I won’t show you, but I am a musical sex goddess when I’m holding this thing naked. I am the dream of aesthetic awesomeness that makes every lame older guy in a fifty-mile radius want to leave his wife and kids because I look just that awe-inspiring. I am bottled human crack.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister Arya?” Sansa asked in equal part annoyance and amazement.

“Sansa, I’m serious, I’m having a moment with you. I’m trying to say that I really, really love this bass.”

Sansa nodded. “I get it, I get it. You’re saying I should look at this as an opportunity to find myself, to find my own bass guitar.”

“No, I’m saying I never would have gotten this thing if it weren’t for my need to drown out Zei’s anal shrieks through that damn wall,” Arya finished with a flourish on the bass guitar before sitting back on her bed again. “So in my book, Zei is okay with me. She’s introduced me to my future husband, and if she would like to take her karmic payment in the form of Jon buggering her good every once in a while, then I say more power to her.”

Sansa cracked up at that and a moment later Arya did too, and for a blissful thirty seconds Sansa couldn’t hear Jon and that girl.

For all the frustrating, confusing, weird problems that came with living with Jon, living with Arya had turned out to be the happy bonus to Sansa’s life that she didn’t even know she had needed. Because besides all the on paper good stuff that Sansa reported to her mother in their weekly phone call, the school work, the friends, the self-confidence; the real gem was that Arya had become cool. Way cooler than Sansa would ever be.

And it was all because of Jon.

Jon had been the one to encourage Arya to keep pursuing dance, even when mother had started pressuring her to focus more on math and science. He had made the down payment on the bass guitar that Arya loved so much, even putting a little etching on the back that said “Needle” which always made Arya tear up when she talked about it, though Sansa didn’t know why. He kept her from binge drinking yet was also lax enough to let her drink if he just always knew where and with whom, which strangely was the only good way to curb her little sister. Jon always put Arya first in every moment, defended her when others were critical of her, and most importantly he made Arya feel safe. Any time Arya wanted to go to a midnight concert or a local pop-up that was in the area’s rougher neighborhoods, she always brought up Jon.

“If I get into trouble I can always call him,” she’d said at least three times before Sansa gave up on trying to control her. Sansa wanted to say that Arya couldn’t rely on Jon but even that didn’t turn out to be true.

Sansa’s least favorite of Jon’s “callers” was this thicker girl (in the head sense as well as the bod sense) named Pia who seemed like she couldn’t hold a thought in her head that wasn’t about Real Housewives or hinting at how her boobs were bigger than Sansa’s. At least Zei was a literal model, so her vanity could be excused a little. Pia thought she was hotter shit than she was.

She and Jon had been necking on the couch, keeping it PG-13 for the moment at least which was a relief as Sansa knew she needed the kitchen counter if she was going to complete this research paper. Her and Arya’s room was the coolest in the apartment but it was also a little cramped.

Pia had been egging Jon on to just take her to the bedroom before they even finished the movie (Jon kept pushing back that he was actually enjoying it) when his cell ringed. He practically shoved the woman’s hand off his dick when he answered, and a few seconds later Sansa could see the muscles in his neck tighten. He never wore a shirt so Sansa had grown familiar with his different reactions. Back tensing meant things were about to start with a girl. Neck tensing meant something stressful.

“I’ll drive over right now, just be ten minutes,” he’d finished the call. “I have to go P, my sister is caught up in Ashbury without a ride and it’s getting dark.”

“She’s a big girl, she can find her own way,” Pia whined, making the hackles rise in Sansa. “Besides, we were just about to get started-”

“It can wait.”

Both Pia and Sansa kind of jumped at that. He was never so abrupt with anyone, man or woman, but nothing more was said as Jon went into his room and then came back out with a shirt on and his car keys. He was putting shoes on when he addressed Sansa. “Arya’s cool but I’m going to pick her up anyway. She said she hasn’t eaten so can you nuke some of last night’s buttered noodles for her? If she doesn’t eat as soon as she comes through the door, you know she’ll skip dinner.”

“Uh, right, got it,” Sansa reacted as quickly as she could. She was surprised Jon had noticed her there.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Pia shrieked.

Jon at least showed some pity. “I’m sorry P. If you wanted to reschedule, I’d get it.”

“I don’t want to reschedule!” She sounded like a ten-year old, even though Sansa knew she was older than Jon. “I got my hopes up all day that you would pay attention to me and now you’re ditching me for that little-”

“Be very careful with what you’re about to say.”

Sansa had been paying attention to Pia, so she didn’t realize at first that that voice was Jon. She had heard him growl and grunt and make his deep, deep “sex” voice at girls but this was different. His voice was harsh, apathetic… cold. Cold was the last thing anyone would ever think about Jon Snow. At least not Stupid Sexy Jon Snow.

“I’m sorry…” she complained in that little girl way that meant she wasn’t really. “It’s just… she’s not even your real sister Jon, you don’t have to do what she says.”

Jon didn’t say anything more to that. He simply insisted that Pia get her things and leave, though he kept his tone polite. He even gave her a little goodbye kiss at the door, but Sansa could tell she was never coming back. Two weeks later and Sansa had never seen her again. She dared to ask Jon about Pia once a few days later but he only said one thing and then never spoke on it again.

“We have different priorities.”

So it was stuff like that that kept Sansa from judging Jon too much. He was a total sex addict or something, but beneath that he was a good guy.

The class was over so Jon left the training room through one of the glass doors while the students were packing their things, bee-lining straight for Sansa at the information desk. She opened the mini fridge that was below the desk and pulled out Jon’s water bottle, having it at the ready for him by the time he got to the desk and rang the bell. He always rang the bell even when she was sitting right there and he always got this stupid grin on his face that made Sansa want to punch him between those stupid stormy eyes of his.

“Excuse me, desk girl, could you tell me where I could get something to drink?”

“Wow, desk girl? Is this the Jon Snow charm that has captured the hearts of so many?” Sansa dead-panned as she handed him the water and watched him pour the first bits over his face before he started drinking. The water made his already illegally tight tank-top somehow even tighter. And wetter.

Jon sighed after he finished gulping down half the bottle. “Gods, this place has become so much more bearable since you started working here.”

“Why? Cause I keep your stuff in the fridge with mine?”

“No, cause when I talk to you, people don’t bug me,” Jon groused. “It used to be I’d get a dozen questions from the students and would never even be able to get to my locker for at least an hour. Now I just head over to you and everyone stays away. You’re like my lucky charm Sansa.”

 _“More like they think you’re trying to hit on me,”_ Sansa thought to herself but she just smiled at Jon’s words.

Though Oldtown was cheaper than KL College, Sansa still needed a part-time job for spending money. The problem was, she had exactly zero working experience and was trying her most desperate tactics to not have to work fast food. Jon had been the one to tell her about the opening at his gym when one of their info desk girls had quit suddenly. He’d said the whole thing was very mysterious but Arya explained it later. The girl’s name was Meg and she was a freshman at Oldtown who was head-over heels in love with Jon though he had never noticed her, not even for a one-night stand. The love from a distance grew too painful so she quit and got a new job in the Linguistics Department. Arya was Facebook friends with her.

The real question was, had Jon lied to Sansa about not knowing why Meg had quit, or was he really that dense? She still wasn’t sure.

“Hey, I have some good news by the way,” Jon continued. “I spoke to Val and she did me a solid and talked to Lieutenant Gerrick, so I will no longer be working a double-shift tomorrow. I am free for your birthday party.”

“That is great news!” is how Sansa honestly reacted. Her worries came a second later.

Because Sansa didn’t know a lot of people in San Francisco, she had wanted to do something small. Once, a long time ago in Connecticut, Sansa’s birthdays were always the biggest parties with hundreds of guests that everyone looked forward to every year. Friends came, family came, neighbors came, and sometimes when Father was being especially generous celebrities would come. Stark and Stag Inc. had a lot of high-profile clients who had loved Ned Stark to pieces and were willing to do him any favors to please Sansa. Even at King’s Landing, Margaery had managed to snag the Psi Chi chapter house for her birthday party so it was a true rager.

But that was then and this was now. When Sansa’s birthday was only a week away, Jon had asked her what she wanted to do. At first she said nothing, just maybe dinner with him and Arya, but he eventually convinced her to throw a little shindig at the apartment. It didn’t take much convincing honestly. She had been more than a little blue thinking she wouldn’t get a party this year and Sansa had made a couple of friends in her classes and she wanted to get to know them better. Sansa felt she always functioned better in a high-paced social environment like a party rather than in class where she always felt insecure about her knowledge on the topic.

Except now she thought of her new friends… and Jon… in the same place…

“You should invite Val,” Sansa scrambled. If Val was there they would tell people she wasn’t Jon’s girlfriend, but people would totally just act like Val was his girlfriend anyway. Whatever weird open relationship things they did aside, Sansa always thought of Val as Jon’s girlfriend anyway. Ironically, she had never caught Val and Jon together after that first day yet she saw Val over at the apartment a lot.

“Yeah, Arya said the same,” Jon nodded as he leaned over to place his elbows on the desk, enveloping Sansa’s entire eye-line with his biceps, though she tried to focus on his face.

“Well yeah, of course she did, she freaking loves Val…” Sansa muttered, more bitterness in her voice than she meant.

“Hey, what does that mean?” Jon frowned.

“Nothing, nothing… Val is great…” Sansa evaded. _”A little too great is the problem.”_

Jon didn’t break eye contact for a long silence. It was probably a cop thing, like an interrogation technique meant to make her talk, but Sansa was an expert in keeping her emotions locked up. So they were just silent for an awkward moment.

Jon finally broke. “Look… I know you might feel like… I don’t know, like this is my life and you’re just coming into it, so you don’t want to rock the boat or whatever. Like you owe me for taking you in and have to be as un-disruptive as possible.”

She was struck by how on the nose Jon had gotten it. “Un-disruptive isn’t a word.”

“I majored in Forensics, not English,” Jon always joked in that straight to the point way that was so him. “I’m just trying to say, you don’t have to hold back on me. When Arya came to San Francisco, I changed my life to accommodate her better. I can do the same for you. I want to do the same for you.”

Sansa stayed silent.

“So if you have a problem with Val… I’m not saying I’ll drop her just like that, she’s my friend and my co-worker, but we can definitely figure something out. You and Arya and me are in this together, in that order. This is your home now so you get more than just a say.”

 _”Shit Jon…”_ Sansa thought to herself. _”Way to be the best person ever when my reasons for hating Val are so fucking petty._

“It’s not really about Val,” Sansa only half-lied. “It’s about the party and… and you.”

“Me?” Jon was clearly not expecting that. “You said you wanted me at the party. Should I bail out?”

“No, no, I want you there, I do, it’s just…” Sansa took a breath. “I don’t know if I can trust you around my friends…” She hoped that was enough of a hint.

“What? I would never hurt any of your friends, you know that.” Jon looked genuinely perplexed. “Just the opposite. I say tell your friends about Dacey’s class and buy them all some mace and tasers.”

“Oh gods… yeah, I should invite my friends to join your class-”

“Dacey’s class-”

“Whatever. No. That’s not the problem.” Sansa could see Jon was still confused. “Gods Jon, this isn’t Winterfell okay? I’m inviting like three people, four max. This isn’t like high school when Theon started dating Kyra or Robb started messing around with Jeyne Poole. If I lose these friends, I start back at zero.”

For his part, Jon looked a little offended. “Hey, I’m not going to just attack your friends!”

“Oh I know you never make the first move. I’m worried they’ll jump you, and you won’t be able to say no. Because you’re somehow incapable of saying no.”

“That’s not true…” Jon griped.

“Then prove it, right now.”

“How?”

“Mister Snow?”

Sansa had noticed this one building up the courage to approach them for about two minutes. She was one of the newer girls in the self-defense class and also the smallest one among the long-legged athletes and models who tended to attend. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, especially her eyes which seemed to flow with an almost violet color in the right light, and she could somehow pull off the platinum blonde hair look that Sansa always assumed was reserved for comic book characters or porn. 

She wore grey mesh, mid-rise leggings that had an eye-catching crisscross cutting around the hips, showing off a lot tanned skin and the fact that she clearly wasn’t wearing underwear. Along with that was a somehow even tighter grey sports-bra that had a thinner lining over the chest to make a clever little window for her cleavage. Sansa knew it was very functional as well as being right out of a frat bro’s workout fantasy, but she couldn’t help but think it was way too sexual to be wearing in a public gym. Her hair was styled into a braided crown around her head, which was adorable but not a great choice for working out.

Though Zei had taken up most of Jon’s attention as was her wont, this one had tried her best to draw Jon’s eye in the most incorrect ways possible. Jon got most excited when the girls were getting really into it, trying their hardest to take him down and paying close attention to Dacey when she was teaching. This girl though just spent the whole class staring at Jon, and whenever she tried to practice a form, she managed to “mess it up” in some way that led to her falling into his arms. He’d been patient but uninterested.

And apparently that wasn’t good enough for her.

“Oh, uh, hi,” Jon replied like a dummy. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Serenai,” she answered. Any disappointment she might have felt at Jon not remembering her was absent from her face. “Remember? I said I had a little training experience from my hometown in Lys… and you said you loved the food from Lys, and I said, usually people mention the women. Then you laughed and I said you had a cute smile.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Jon smiled at that moment, though Sansa guessed he didn’t remember any of that. “How are you? Did the class go alright? I think I remember you saying it was your first.”

“It went well, yes, but I’m thinking my um, legs work needs little attention,” she explained in a heavy accent, blushing and avoiding Jon’s eyes, though in a way that Sansa could tell was purposeful. “I was wondering if you ever did private lessons or such? If not here, I have lots and lots of space back in my-”

“I don’t do private lessons.” Jon said it a little too quickly so his tone was softer on the next part. “That is to say, I’m not certified in any way to teach, Dacey is. If you think you need extra instruction, you should check with her.”

“But she doesn’t know how to touch me right.”

“The words is teach.” _"Ugh, she knows that Jon.”_

“I know that,” the girl giggled. It sounded like angels farting. “I am thinking this is needing a more… intimate touch. Skin to skin.”

 _"Going for the kill, I can respect that.”_ Sansa eyed Jon’s reaction. Before he could say anything though, the girl turned her back on him and placed her tiny bird hands over his giant ham hocks, placing his palms over the cut openings around her hips, running his fingers between the slits.

“See? I feel my hips locking right up. I need your help.”

Jon mumbled something that wasn’t words.

“You always touch me just right Mister Snow. Even better than when I do it by myself…”

“Well maybe I’m too gentle with you,” Jon said a little flutter in his voice. “Dacey can-”

“No, you misunderstand. Ms. Dacey is the one who is too soft.” The girl’s voice was silk. Jon was practically twice her size so when she looked up and whispered, her lips were right against his neck. “You have rough hands Mister Snow. It won’t be good workout unless you- unless it makes me ache for long time after. Just a little pain is good you said…”

“Wow.”

Both the girl and Jon turned to Sansa and she realized that she must have said that last thought out loud. Jon had an inscrutable look on his face but the girl gave her a very familiar one. It was a look Sansa had given to dozens of girls whenever they looked at Joffrey. Little did she know at the time that no amount of looks would keep Joffrey from wandering.

Jon cleared his throat and pulled his hands off before turning the girl around, though that was a bit of a mistake. Even just gripping her by the shoulders was enough for her. The seductive pouting of before was instantly replaced by a breathless, blushing, shy look that made it look like she was going to pass out at any moment. She looked like the cover to every airport romance novel and Jon did his part looking like a wet, buff Fabio-type. Sansa was trying her hardest not to think of this girl as anything but “slutty.”

“Serenei, if you want to keep coming to class, I encourage that. Take lessons with Dacey. Learn to defend yourself while you’re here in the States. That’s your focus. I unfortunately am not much help when it comes to anything… further than that.”

_”You’re giving her too many openings Jon.”_

Except it seemed the words got through to the girl as she nodded. “Can I at least Snapchat you later? So we can go over any questions I might have on my hips?”

“Uh- sure. Of course.” Jon was a little thrown off but the girl was clearly pleased with how things had ended, nodding before she gave Jon a kiss on each cheek, which Sansa assumed was a cultural thing about Lys though she noticed the second kiss lingered a bit. Then the girl bounced away and Jon let out a breath.

“Wow, color me impressed,” Sansa laughed. “I guess the man can say no.”

Jon looked more than a little offended and Sansa thought she might have mis-stepped somewhere. That was confirmed for her a moment later.

“Sansa, that girl goes to Arya’s school.”

“Wha-what?” Sansa gasped as she dropped her coffee, hot liquid splashing on her hand even as it landed right side up and didn’t spill. “I thought- she looked mid-twenties at least! Her tits are bigger than mine!! Do you know her? Is she one of Arya’s friends?”

“No, I was lying before,” Jon explained, still frowning. “I did remember her from class. I was just trying to discourage her. She told me she’s an exchange student from Lys, here for a semester to learn English while someone lives with her family to learn High Valyrian. She’s a grade below Arya at the Arts Academy.”

 _”Great, I’m calling fifteen year-olds sluts now,”_ Sansa thought, though all she said out loud was, “Well she has English down.”

“Sansa…” Jon still looked mad and the guilt was starting to make Sansa feel ill. “I get it. You don’t have any reason to believe me when I tell you this, and I have not done myself any favors by… carrying on like I did before you moved in, but I do have limits. I do have common decency.”

“No, no, I know that Jon.” Sansa wanted this conversation to be over.

“You don’t have to worry about me sleeping with your friends, or Arya’s friends, or anyone else.”

“Jon, I get it.”

“No, I know, but I really want to make this clear.” He took her hand then and Sansa couldn’t help the blush she felt. How had that teeny-bopper handled Jon’s hands on her fucking hips and back and shoulders if just holding hands with Jon Snow got you going?

“You and Arya have full veto rights, okay?” She looked up at his face at that. “I like to date-”

“That’s dating?” Sansa couldn’t help herself.

“Fine. I like sex. A lot.” Jon paused to see her reaction but she said nothing. She was conservative, not a nun. “It’s like, one of three things that I like without any reservations. So if it were up to me, I would carry on as I have been since before Arya moved in.”

 _”Okay, so Jon’s been a manslut for quite a while and I just didn’t notice.”_ There was an odd comfort in that.

“And you totally have that right-”

“No I don’t Sansa because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about what’s right for the family. About Arya.” She could tell now that this was the more familiar, very grim and serious Jon Snow from their childhood days. “Catelyn told me that you were moving here to save the family money and making this big, heartfelt sacrifice… but I can tell you were really sent here to take care of Arya.”

 _”What? I don’t do shit for Arya. You’re the one parenting her,”_ Sansa thought bitterly. _“You and Val…”_

“So we need to make sure she always comes first. Arya before everything else, right?”

“Of course.” Sansa hadn’t always been the best sister but she knew she would die for Arya. Like father would have wanted.

“But for me… after Arya, the most important priority is you. The day my… predilections interfere with Arya’s life, I’ll stop. The day they even mess with you one bit, I’ll stop.”

Sansa was a little bit speechless.

“You and Arya… you’re the most important part of my life now. You two are my home. So I give you permission to start… um…”

Sansa knew what to say now.

“You’re right,” she nodded. “It’s time I start thinking of you in the same way. I know you’re a good guy Jon. I can tell the good ones from the bad ones and Jon Snow was always one of the good ones. 

“And… and you’re really important to me too Jon.”

And he was.

Jon blushed a bit, a new for him as far as Sansa was concerned, but he smiled and laughed awkwardly as he walked away, saying he needed a shower and that he would see her at home. Something about the way he said that… home… Sansa felt it for the first time.

_”He called me his home… I mean, me and Arya but…”_

“Sansa?”

She was knocked out of her thoughts as Jon turned back to her. “Yeah?”

“Um… what is Snapchat?”

Jon Snow, secret Lothario man-slut and yet, still that same old lame loser from high school.

“Don’t worry about it. If you let that girl find you on Snapchat, I promise she will get you sent to prison.”


	3. Chapter 3 - Sansa's Party (Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets a gift for her birthday: the truth. No returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So I'm glad people are enjoying the story, but I feel I have to address some of the comments about Jon. Is he a bad guardian, is he irresponsible for exposing Arya to such highly sexual environments, being such a dick to Sansa and women in general etc.? They are questions, to be sure. But I have something to say that should lift the burden of these worries from your hearts.
> 
> Chill. This is a silly, smutty story about a heightened sexy reality. This is a modern au of a series where twin brother and sister are in love with three children, where an entire dynasty is built on a dude marrying both of his sisters, and where glaring sexual assaults on children (by our standards) occur every other chapter. Just because this setting more closely resembles our reality than the actual ASOIAF series, doesn't mean you should be applying your real-world sensibilities or morals onto this. Either enjoy it or not, but I'm not impressed by all the moralizing. It just bums me out honestly. This is not high school required reading. I called this story smut and I meant it. 
> 
> So this is where I'm giving those of you who can't do the above advice (hint: it's chill) the chance to just hop off now. This is the chapter where a lot of things come to a head. I'm actually adding some new tags to this story after this chapter that I didn't think were needed but now I know better based on mentioned comments. If you didn't like the earlier stuff, this will only be worse for you. If you don't turn back now, I won't feel sorry for any feelings of judgement or offense you have for the story, the character, or me. You were warned. Your comments will be deleted.
> 
> (BTW, any criticisms you might have about the story will still be accepted, I just won't be taking judgement values like "This story (or Jon) is validating/endorsing "X" bad thing in the eyes of society by existing" and similar comments. You know the difference.)
> 
> For those of you still on board though, please enjoy!
> 
> ALSO MARIJUANA USAGE AHEAD SO BE WARNED OF THAT AS WELL!

Almost every single part of Sansa’s birthday party was going great except for one thing, and just like when they were kids, Arya was that one thing. Sansa supposed this was some sort of high school payback, a revenge on some imagined wrong Sansa had done to Arya when they were younger. Arya had even chosen a form of revenge that appealed to this newfound vanity that she had apparently developed while living with Jon. Sansa loved it for the most part, she agreed that Arya was absolutely gorgeous and loved that she was comfortable with her own beauty, but sometimes Sansa worried that Arya was getting a little too willing to show off her still-developing goods.

And the wig was just too much.

There were three groups, each by a fan. In one group was Jon with his friends and a few quiet, more introverted misfits. In the second was some of Sansa’s guests whose tastes in parties was a little bit more… elegant than this type of celebration. Jon’s heavy duty speakers were pumping 90s classics on full blast without irony, the whole room bursting into singing whenever a Disney classic came on the playlist.

The third group was a circle of cheering people dancing around her little sister. 

“Poor little Arya,” mother had sighed to Sansa once. If only mother could see her now.

She was wearing a black bustier top with light blue fringes that was laced closed down her chest, exposing the skin underneath, Arya once again forgoing a bra because, why not, she could unlike floppy-boobed Sansa! And of course, Arya’s small, no-fat anywhere on her cherubic body that Sansa would never be able to attain no matter how many times she let her gym membership expire, made it work amazingly. Along with that was a short leather skirt that would have looked incredibly wicked if not for the spanx worn underneath. The neon-orange color of Arya’s bottom that flashed every once in a whole had bright green lettering across the butt that read, “Can’t Touch This” with a little hammer underneath.

Completing the ensemble was the final piece to Arya's Coachella Instagram model look; her long, neon blue wig with one green fake peacock feather braided into the side. She was wearing a lot of dark, glitter makeup that included a little silver gleaming direwolf badge on her cheek that howled at the small, crescent moon sticker under her left eye. At least seven guys who started coming onto Arya started their approach by pointing out how “cool” that wolf was, and every time Arya just said, “Dude, I’m underage, move on,” and most got the hint and walked. The ones who couldn’t get the hint were quickly intimidated by Arya’s big friend that she called simply Bull, a nickname that said it all.

Sansa had invited twenty people and in an uplifting turn of events, over ten had actually attended. Jon had brought his promised five friends. Arya had managed to outpace Sansa with fifteen, though Sansa was pretty sure she didn’t know all their names. It all made for a very hot living room. Thankfully Sansa had planned ahead and moved the fans into the room before the party, though she was hoping she could stay sober enough to remember to move them back into her and Arya’s room.

 _”So now Arya is the center of attention it seems.”_ She thought as she watched Arya grab a girl whose nickname was Weasel (ugh to all of Arya’s friends and their dumb nicknames), and started grinding with her in a way that made every guy in the circle, and some girls, green with jealousy. Sansa was jealous too, though for different reasons.

_She gets to be the star at MY birthday party? She couldn’t wait until next month for HER birthday party to break this outfit out?”_

_”Why would she do this to me? Did I do something? We were getting along this morning!_

Though Val wasn’t able to come to Sansa’s party, she had been there that morning, having crashed on the couch to keep an eye on Arya while Jon pulled an overnight shift with the USPP. She’d left them alone for twenty minutes around 5 to pick up donuts, which Arya scarfed down immediately. Sansa picked at one donut piece by piece while she sipped her coffee. The topic of conversation was the same as always, Arya’s favorite: sex.

“So this weird lady kept moaning about how Jon was ‘so big, so big,’ like, be more creative in your dirty talk weird lady. Plus, she’s gotta have at least fifty pounds on Jon. Can she really be so tight down there that she thinks our Jon’s got some tripod in his pants or something?”

Sansa snorted hot coffee into her nostrils and it hurt a lot, like she was drowning in lava, but she still managed to gasp out some words from behind her napkin.

“Wait, so Jon isn’t big?” Sansa had always assumed… big penis, big orgasms, right? “If it’s not a big swinging monster down there, why are all these women so addicted over… it?” She whispered on the last part.

“Jon has enough down there to get everything done. It’s technique where he excels. Plus, it’s in the eye of the beholder. The sexier you might think of someone, the more you might see them the way you prefer, such as having a larger than normal penis.” Val explained all of that in a tone that was not unlike a doctor explaining how to take your new prescription zit cream.

“I think Jon is super sexy,” Arya said without hesitation. “But I don’t think he’s got a magnum in his pants.”

“I don’t see what the fuss is all about with Jon anyway.” Sansa bit her lip to try and will her blush away. But once she actually felt the blush wash down her neck and back, she couldn’t help but smile at the feeling.

“Ooooohhh…. Look who’s red-faced…” Arya laughed at Sansa a bit. The moment felt so nice. Just breakfast… sisters teasing each other about boys… like in a real home…

… all thanks to Val…

Sansa shook those thoughts away and all her memories. As if the gods were answering her prayers for a distraction, the doorbell rang and Sansa bee-lined to it. Jon beat her there though and opened the door, greeting someone that Sansa was not ready to face right now, so she immediately turned around and pretended she was getting a phone call.

“Are you alright? That woman seems to have spooked you something good,” Mya chuckled.

“My goodness, is that Jon’s girlfriend?” Myranda raised an eyebrow. “She looks like Vampirella meets the Red Power Ranger attending Burning Man.”

“It’s our landlord Melisandre, now keep your voices down and pretend we’re mingling.”

Mya and Myranda were the best sports in the world and immediately started sipping from their solo cups, looking around like there was something interesting about the ceiling. Though Sansa was glad of the good attendance, if these two had been her only invited guests to come, that would have been enough for Sansa.

Myranda was a Photography major (“The only degree that matters Dear Sansa, is your M.R.S. degree…”) who sat next to Sansa in her Pre-Calc class. She always whispered funny little jokes and juicy tales of gossip about celebrities and high society during their dull, dry lectures. She usually liked to pay attention in class, but Sansa actually did all of her assigned reading every day and the professor just repeated stuff that she already knew from the book. It was the kind of half-assing professor that you would have never, ever found at King’s Landing College, yet happened half the time in Oldtown. Sansa was trying to remember it was a public school and to not judge so much.

Mya helped her with that. Attending school for zoology entirely on scholarships and loans, Mya had come up from nothing. Her life hadn’t resembled Sansa’s in anyway, in both difficulty and in love. She had persevered through it all though to become an amazing, well-rounded, truly noble person. Sansa knew Father would have loved her. Mya was quiet but brave, honest but soft-spoken, tough yet always kind. She was quiet for the most part but couldn’t stop once you got her talking about her interests, namely her pets, her classes, and her boyfriend Mychel. (Ex-boyfriend now though.)

And these two were the only ones who knew about Sansa’s… inner struggles about Jon Snow.

“Well looking at him up close… ooph, I get it Sansa. If I lived with that, I would be distracted alllll day long, hmph,” Myranda hummed. Jon had thankfully worn a shirt to the party, but it was a distractedly tight Henley along with peach board shorts that looked nothing like anything Jon would ever voluntarily wear, but was exactly the kind of thing that Sansa would have recommended for him in a pinch.

“I think he looks girly,” Mya sniped. She had been complimentary of Jon before, but when Sansa had given her more details about how he carried on with his lady “callers,” the older girl cooled off on him. Now Mya just saw Jon as a “philanderer” as she liked to call it, which was the same word she used for Mychel whenever she talked about their break up. Sansa wasn’t sure, but she had a feeling that Mychel hadn’t kept to Mya’s bed.

She watched Jon and Melisandre speak like they were old friends, comfortable and laughing as Jon took a Pyrex tray of brownies from her. The red woman nodded a few times, combing her long elegant fingers through her clearly dyed red hair, brushing it over the shoulders of the Japanese kimono that she was always wearing. Sansa had had it in her head that Melisandre only ever wore that one outfit and nothing else, and she wouldn’t accept that head canon as anything else but truth.

Especially after she literally saw John rip it open in Melisandre’s office to reveal completely bare, somehow ageless, milky-white skin and impossibly perfect apple-sized breasts. Sansa had been dropping off a ladder she’d borrowed from the building supply closet when she saw them. They were playing some weird sex game where Jon’s hands were tied to Melisandre’s office chair while she blew him. He was begging her to let him go, offering money or anything else she wanted, and she would just keep whispering that his suffering was all a part of the red god’s plan or some such colorful nonsense. 

Eventually he “broke out” of the restraints (they weren’t real) and forced her to stand, slipping the silk-like fabric off of her shoulders and fucking her on the desk like a wild animal, her screaming the whole time about how she had committed folly in creating a monster god or something, and Jon’s rigorous thrusts were some kind of divine punishment for her arrogance at trying to control the fires of Azor Ahai. It was decent stuff. Not Oscar-worthy, but good. 

After she had been fucked senseless, first with her butt on her desk while Jon stood, then from behind while Jon laid over her back, one foot on the desk while the other was still balanced on the ground, Jon made her give him oral again to cap it all off. This time though he was standing so Sansa could see every stomach muscle tense when he pulled her skull back and forth over his length, her hair gathered up in his fist right up to undyed black roots. When he came she started making choking noises but Jon forced her to keep sucking, even as her hands started slapping his abs and chest in desperate, garbled pleas. She stood up when he was finally finished, her face not disheveled in the slightest, like it had all been a dream, and kissed Jon on the mouth as he stood panting.

She was taller than Jon’s 5’11” frame, strangely tall for a woman, and the image of her standing over him, almost enveloping him in her body, was amazing. Jon tasting his own semen on the mysterious hippie-witch’s lips as they kissed deeply after a round of hot rape-play or whatever they wanted to call it… it haunted Sansa more than any moaning she had heard through the wall. Even more than the Val incident.

Thankfully Melisandre left the party after a few more minutes of small talk, so Sansa wouldn’t have to face her. Jon shouted at Arya that the red woman had brought cupcakes, and moments later Arya and three of her giggly little friends grabbed the tray from Jon and ran away, like they couldn’t face him because they were too shy or some other façade that little girls liked to play when they had a crush on an older boy.

_”And Jon has become an attractive older boy… if I were Arya’s age, I might be tempted. I certainly tried with Loras, gods help me, and he was older, sexual preference aside.”_

“Hey Sansa,” Jon called her over. “I’ve got your gift but it’s outside!”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Mya whispered.

“But if you do, give every detail.” Myranda winked which made Sansa smile and realize how silly her weird feelings about Jon Snow were. 

They trusted each other. “Trust. Trust. Trust,” she would repeat to herself.

She did trust Jon, didn’t she?

“Where’s my gift?” Sansa asked, fists on the hips of her sundress, causing Jon to grin in that way that he only did for her. “I don’t see an N’Sync Trapper Keeper-level gift here.”

“Huh?” Jon laughed.

“You said your gift would be the best you’ve ever given me. My N’Sync Trapper Keeper in fourth grade is the gift to beat.”

Jon grinned even more somehow. “I feel confident that it will.”

“Pride goeth…” Sansa intoned before she followed Jon out the front door.

He led them to a ladder behind their washer and dryer set instead of the door, which was surprising. They made their way to a sort of metal grate that looked like a fire escape and Jon lowered a second ladder with a string that Sansa was able to climb to get on the roof.

Or rather paradise.

It was gorgeous, a wide garden filled with grass, wildflowers, lilies, dragonbells, and all sorts of other flowers that Sansa couldn’t name. There were three little hutches that Sansa didn’t recognize at first until she heard the buzzing that came from inside, and benches laid out opposite from them so you could watch the bees’ growth, or whatever beekeepers did.

The key attraction though was the white wood archway in the center that had a hanging swing bench chair with three cushions on it. It was the perfect spot to read a book and Sansa immediately fantasized doing that. It got all sorts of light from three different directions, either from the sun during the day or mounted flood flights at night, yet the arch would create a pleasant little spot of shade too.

And when Sansa touched it, she realized that the swing bench didn’t just look like the one from Winterfell. It was made from weirwood, the rare wood that was specific to Winterfell’s local forests. Just like her favorite swing from childhood.

“Ta-daa!!” Jon shouted, not noticing how Sansa was struck speechless. “It’s for you. As a sort of… birthday/apology gift. It’s sort of like the back garden, at Winterfell, you know? The godswood as fa… your father called it. I mean, no Winter Roses out in this climate but…” 

“Why?” Sansa muttered. Jon knew she didn’t mean about the Winter Roses.

“Look, I know the walls are thin, and there’s no AC, and I… I have too many guests over-”

“Is that what they call themselves? Guests?”

“Point,” Jon’s smile started to fade, now that he saw Sansa’s reaction. “But MY point is just… I know it hasn’t been easy for you, making this transition, and I haven’t been much help at all honestly, so I just wanted to… bring a little piece of your old home to your new home. Maybe whenever you want to be alone, or just have quiet, or want to think about your father… this can be that special place for you.”

Sansa was still silent. An hour ago she’d been worried that Jon was going to sleep with Cissy from her Design Lab, and now Jon was giving her all of this? What was this game he was playing with her?

“Now, it’s only just yours, really, for tonight. Arya will know about this place soon enough, I can’t keep it secret from her, and Meli said that if we wanted exclusive access to this place that that would have to be reflected in the rent when we sign the new lease-”

“Did Melisandre give this to us because you’re sleeping with her?”

Jon paused, no real shame on his face but clearly understanding now that Sansa was feeling… differently than he had expected. It was her experience that gestures like this, gifts so grand and beautiful, always came with an agenda. With a cost. Maybe the cost wouldn’t be hers but was Jon going to pay it? Was someone else? Did Sansa want the responsibility of having a place to herself, a place only for her, if she knew that Jon had gotten it with the magic power of his dick?

And if this was her private place… was that because Jon wanted more private time for himself?

“So you know about that?” Jon asked, at least having the decency to not deny it.

“I saw you two… together… in her office, the day after Val took us out for frozen yogurt and that custard-pourer tried to get into your pants.”

“Oh man…” Jon blushed then, rubbing his lips with the webbing between his thumb and his forefinger. “You saw that? If it’s any consolation, all that stuff she said, that I said… it’s all just a… a game, you get that, right?”

“Yes, I get it Jon, I’m not an idiot. Rape fantasies are one of the most common fantasies out there.” Sansa thought she remembered reading that somewhere but she wasn’t sure, so she tried to just sell it on confidence alone. “I’m not… judging, I just want to make sure that there aren’t any strings attached to this.”

“There aren’t,” Jon shook his head fervidly. “She just finished construction on this place and she could have made it open to the whole building and charged everyone an extra $50 dollars, the only amount half the tenants would accept honestly, with a net gain of $400.00 per month. Or… I suggested she could give us exclusive key rights and even give us access through our apartment’s fire escape, barring a month or two of getting the lock fixed, and in return I offer to pay her an $600.00 extra on our rent every month, off the books. Everyone wins.”

“Arya and I will kick in an extra $400.00 each month to help out.”

Jon looked annoyed and then dismayed. “Fine, if you really insist, but the point of this was that I pay for you both, as my… gift to you.”

“Gifts… men always like giving you gifts…” She remembered Petyr’s words by rote. “And they tell you there are no strings attached but there are.” She had thought he was being nice, decent, that he was being the good soul that stories and movies had always told her existed in the heart of every man.

But it was all lies. Every gift was just Petyr building his “credit” with Sansa, and her due could only be paid by one thing.

The one thing that Jon gave to every girl he met. So what could he want from her… if it wasn’t sex?

“Sansa… I’m not sure what you’re saying…”

“You? You don’t know?” Sansa rounded on Jon. “You’re the big man on campus Jon. You’re the big dick that every girl wants, she just can’t help yourself. All the little girls love JON FUCKING SNOW!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jon whispered, angry but also something else. There was always something else going on behind a man’s eyes. “Sansa, I’m really trying here.”

“Trying so hard that I can hear you through the wall every night Jon! Arya can too!”

“She - I- she’s never- okay, so clearly hearing me with Zei and the others bothers you more than I thought. I had kind of thought you- but never mind. I’ll own my part of the fault. I’ll do a better job to-”

“You should have protected her.” _”Someone should have protected me.”_

“Sansa… are you alright? You’re… you’re crying.”

“Jon, I need you to answer a question for me and be completely honest.” 

She had these thoughts bouncing around her head and she couldn’t silence them any longer. It’d been going on since the first day she moved in but Sansa didn’t want to face it. Petyr kept flashing through her mind, reminding her of her shame, and Sansa knew she had to say it now. Before all the air left her lungs.

“I- of course. No lies. Never.” Jon nodded slowly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and maybe I’m the wrong person to help, but you will always get the truth from-”

“Are you trying to sleep with me?” She turned away from him, just to be safe.

“What? No, Sansa, that’s not what this is about, I swear,” Jon said it so effortlessly that Sansa knew he was either telling the truth or he was a liar of a higher caliber than even Joffrey, which just couldn’t be possible.

And yet Sansa could hear it in Jon’s voice. That slightly heavy quality that came with having to face something that you know is coming, even if you never give it a name or a voice in your own head. That one horrible thought that infected everything else and made everything just as tainted.

“Sansa, I’m just… I’m trying to reach out to you, that’s all. If you don’t want the garden, we’ll tell Meli-

“Are you sleeping with Arya?”

Jon didn’t answer for a long time, and so Sansa had no choice but to look over her shoulder at him in the dark. He looked like he hadn’t heard her at first, but when he finally answered Sansa could hear the gulf between them that she had dug up. It kept growing.

“No.”

“Have you ever slept with Arya?”

“No.”

“Have you ever touched her?”

Jon’s eye, the one with the eagle scratch scar, twitched. “No.”

“Liar.”

Sansa sprinted past Jon, not listening as he tried to say shouting something to her. She didn’t know how to get to their apartment’s fire escape like Jon, so Sansa took a ladder that led down the side of the building and all the way to the street. The heights made her dizzy, but having to listen to Jon make excuses and come up with ways to justify it… she wasn’t sure she could take that. She just kept promising herself that the next ladder rung would be the last until that was finally the truth. She walked over to the front door and hit the intercom button, knowing that someone at the party would just buzz her through the door.

Thankfully Jon wasn’t waiting for her at the front. Sansa only wanted to talk to one person and that one person was going to sit down with her right now. If they didn’t talk about it now, Sansa would go insane. She felt like she was going insane.

Mya and Myranda started when they saw her but were quickly bull-rushing her with questions.

“What was the gift?”

“Did he kiss you or something, you look flushed.”

"Sansa, have you been crying?"

“I’m going to talk to Arya,” Sansa answered flatly, causing them both to look at each other in confusion. “Look, I know we haven’t known each other that long, and maybe I’m pushing this friendship too early, but can I ask you two to do me a favor? If you see Jon, tell him I’m talking to Arya and that he should just let us talk. Make sure he doesn’t interfere.”

“Of course,” Mya agreed, because she was just that kind of person. Always ready to help. 

“Only if you promise you’ll come into the studio for a session some time. I’m really serious. I want you to be my next subject,” Myranda went on but Sansa couldn’t hear her.

She just needed to talk to Arya.

Frustratingly, after being the center of everyone’s attention for over an hour, now no one knew where Arya was. Sansa checked the kitchen, the various body groupings in the living room, even the bathroom and their bedroom, but she was nowhere to be seen. Sansa checked the last place, Jon’s bedroom, and found the door locked. Fortunately, Jon had shared with her that their door key worked on all the doors in the apartment as well. Not even Arya knew that.

Which is probably why Arya screamed when Sansa walked in on her passing a joint to that Weasel girl. The two of them were on Jon’s bed while another girl sat in his desk chair, the Throne of a Thousand Sighs as Sansa liked to think of it. She had only seen the actual inside of Jon’s room twice, yet she felt that she was strangely familiar with it.

She assumed the heavy skunk smell wasn’t a normal occurrence.

“Sansa!” Arya shrieked, standing up even as she not so subtly picked up an Altoids can and tried to pass it back to Weasel, but one Sorority bitch stare from Sansa made the girl cower enough that she could easily take the tin from her.

“Gods Weasel, try and grow some ovaries, would you?” Arya sighed.

“Everyone out, I need to talk to my sister.”

They were clearly very smart girls. They bolted with lightning quick speed out of the room. Arya only started to look nervous when Sansa closed the door behind her. Part of Sansa still felt like she was back on that rooftop garden with Jon. She wished she could see his gesture as just that, just a gesture.

But she had to know. If the price for looking the other way with Jon… was her sister.

“I should have told you but like… it’s not a big deal. Pot’s actually way safer than alcohol and it’s legal here. Sort of.” Arya could tell her words weren’t working on Sansa so she changed tactics. “When I first got here, Jon got me going with a therapist and she said I might want to look into anti-depressants, but I remembered how mom said the side-effects were so terrible and… and weed was the alternative option. So it’s kind of medicinal for me too, even though my script ran out a while ago…”

“Arya, stop talking.” Sansa’s head felt like it was spinning. She looked at the clock. Gods, only 20 minutes ago her biggest problem had been all the attention Arya was getting. It felt like a lifetime.

“Look, on any other day I would probably come down on you for smoking this garbage-”

“Oh come on! You’ve never even tried it-”

“-BUT!” Sansa shouted, which was out of character apparently because Arya visibly flinched. “I don’t really care right now. A little recreational drug use is normal at your age… having sex with a 23-year old man isn’t.”

_”I guess we’ll start there.”_

Ayra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I already told you, I’m a virgin!”

“So what, brothers don’t count, is that it?”

That got her attention. Arya’s usual fury melted away into hesitation. “What are you doing?”

“Do you… or do you not… have sex with Jon?”

“I don’t!” Arya shouted, though Sansa raised an eyebrow when Arya became as red as a tomato. “I- really! I have never had sex with Jon, ever! I swear it!”

“I’m not mom Arya, I’m not going to be nice about this. Has he ever touched you in an inappropriate way?” Sansa kept getting more and more pissed off the more she thought about it. Being pissed was better than being sad.

Arya bit her lip, her eyes scrambling back and forth as she tried to read Sansa’s face but Sansa had gone from porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Eventually Arya pulled that dumb wig off, the headband that was holding her hair back reading “Winter Wolves Baseball Club” across it. For some reason the sight of that made Sansa’s heart lighter.

“If you try to send Jon away, or-or try to make me testify against him in court or some shit, I’ll lie on the stand. I don’t fucking care what you say.”

There was a furious look on Arya’s face but her eyes were red and watering. At least that was still the same about Arya. When she started to get sad, she always tried to tough it out. Arya claimed that she never cried, ever, period. Sansa was just glad that she still had tears left to shed. Sansa had shed all of hers long ago.

“I just want the truth Arya.” Sansa paused in thought before continuing. “Only after I understand everything will I make my decision.”

Arya latched onto that as expected. She pretended to cough so she could wipe her eyes against the palm of her hand before she started speaking.

“He’s only… we’ve only done real stuff twice.”

“What does that mean, ‘real stuff,’?” Sansa pressed.

“Just let me finish!” Arya shouted so loud that Sansa almost shushed her until she remembered that her birthday party was still going on outside the door.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning. Did anything ever happen at Winterfell?”

Arya actually chuckled at that. “I wish. No, when I was a little 7-year-old with her 7-year-old crush on the boy who lived in my house and made me feel more accepted than anyone else except for Dad… but Jon didn’t think of me that way in the slightest. At one-point I even went on and on for months about how I thought I would marry Jon one day. You remember right? I would always tell Mom, ‘Don’t worry about me finding someone to love. I’ll just marry Jon because I love him.’ And Jon would say-”

“’Oh Arya, I would still love you even if you married Elmar Frey.’” Sansa finished.

She did remember that. It was one of the few times that everyone at the table laughed at one of Jon’s jokes, including mother. It was just a footnote in her mind of that time in her life, but it was there. Would all of her childhood memories about Jon now have to come into question?

“So it started here, in San Francisco,” Sansa continued for her.

“Yes… but not like at first,” Arya grimaced. “I mean gods Sansa, I was 14 when I first moved here. I hadn’t even finished getting boobs yet. And I wasn’t living with Jon.”

Sansa bit her lip, wanting to say something that she knew Arya would not receive well. The truth was, Arya had clearly grown up over the past four years, with the way she dressed, the way she acted, the way she partied. Yet underneath all the lace and make up was just an almost 18-year-old girl who could still be easily mistaken for a 14-year-old.

 _”But maybe that’s going a little too far to assassinate Jon’s character. I mean, I’m only 19, 20 now, and I know in certain lights I can still look 16. Does that mean any guy I might want to date is a future pedo?”_ Not everyone could just be Joffreys or Petyrs. Could they?

“That first year I was just in so much therapy,” Arya continued, unnoticing of Sansa’s thoughts. “Trying to get used to the new school, the new area, the new weather. I didn’t even see Jon that often honestly. A dinner every two weeks or something.” A flicker of nostalgia came to Arya’s face. “Plus I met Edric. He was so sweet and beautiful, with these sad blue eyes and such soft, golden hair…”

“Wait, who’s Edric? Oh gods, is he a friend of Jon’s?” Sansa’s heart froze. Had Jon shared his sister? Their sister?

“What!? NO you loon! I met Edric at school! He was in my homeroom, gods!” Arya’s tone was vicious but she was also blushing so Sansa thought she was fine.

“Oh. Well when did you break up?” Sansa pointing them back on topic.

“A few weeks after my 16th birthday,” Arya sighed. “It was all my fault, I fucked it up. Edric said he was willing to wait until I was ready to have sex, and I believed him at first, but after a while… I couldn’t stop my own thoughts you know? It was like, every day. I would think to myself, would this be the day? Would he finally get fed up with putting up with me and demand I give him some head or something? I couldn’t handle the pressure and… and I could tell Edric was scared to take my virginity. Of the commitment. I told him I only wanted- I only want to have sex with one man. The man I marry. Like mom did with dad.”

Sansa was surprised but she hoped it didn’t show on her face. Saving yourself for marriage felt like more of an old fashioned Sansa decision. It was strange knowing maybe Arya had had that romantic heart too, once.

“… so I broke up with him before he could break up with me. Like a fucking idiot. By the time I’d realized my mistake, he’d already started dating someone else.”

She didn’t want to interrupt but she had to. “And that’s when Jon… approached you?”

“Ha, yeah right.” Arya laid back on the bed, one hand over her eye as she spoke. “My therapist said I do this thing where, when I feel bad, I try to punish myself to feel better. It’s part of this whole self-loathing thing I’m working on, but the main point is that I stopped taking care of myself for a while there. Stopped eating, stopped bathing, stopped living.

“Jon couldn’t take any more of it after two days. He literally dragged me out of bed and forced me to eat something. Like literally sat me up in a chair and pushed the food into my face. And… he would always take me out on walks. Just walks, nothing more. It was kind of weird, but I think we saw the whole city after a month, which was cool. We wouldn’t do anything on the walks, no talking or trying to deal with my problems, just… walked. It probably saved my life. Jon says I’m being overdramatic when I say stuff like that, but it’s just because he gets scared thinking about me being that fucking low.

“Finally after all of this, he asked if I could finally take a shower, cause this whole time I was just, you know, deodorant reapplying. I said I felt too tired for a shower… so he offered to give me a bath.”

Sansa must have given herself away because Arya shook her head before she could speak.

“No like, an honest offer, not a sex one.”

“Maybe that’s what you thought. Sometimes people can manipulate you by making you think you want something when you really don’t.” _”Joff did it to me all the time.”_

Arya looked even more done with this conversation. “It was a regular bath. But I… I did enjoy it in a weird way that maybe, MAYBE, was kind of sexual. That went on for a while. Jon just gave me baths and it was… just like that.

“Then one day after it’d grown into a routine… he was done washing my hair and about to leave so I could wash my body and… and I asked him…”

Arya was fiddling her fingers over her face with an unfocused look so Sansa helped out.

“Asked him what?”

“I asked him if he could… if he could show me… how to touch myself.” Arya sat up, now with both hands over her face. “Fuck you this is so embarrassing. I had never… done that before, and I’d never let Edric either. The most I’d ever done was rub myself against his leg sometimes when we were kissing. Jon told me that I could just figure out on my own what I liked but I knew, if I just begged and pleaded and pushed… I knew Jon would give me what I wanted.

“After that he told me that baths were over and I agreed. I mean, he gave me my first real orgasm. Jon could have asked me to eat rock salt and I would have done it. I knew I’d pushed it too far though so, you know, I laid low. I pretended it didn’t happen and Jon did too. That was that. I was less afraid of sex too. I dated a couple of guys after that, none of them even came close to how I felt about Edric, but they were mostly nice.”

Sansa could feel her sister holding back. “You said twice. What was the second time?”

“The second time was entirely me.” Arya looked dead center into Sansa’s eyes. “Jon had… he’d had a really, really bad day. Like… just look up Hardhome Homeless Camp and Haunted Woods Fire and you’ll find a ton of news reports. 

“Jon was the first responder and he saw… everything. Like, things that I’m sure no person should ever have to see. He refused to tell me anything about it but I knew. It wrecked him like nothing I’d ever seen before. More even than- um.”

“What?” Sansa asked, though for the first time it was out of concern for Jon.

“Than even when father died,” Arya recovered, eyeing Sansa in a way that dared her to challenge it. “He wasn’t as bad as me, but he gave up a little too. You think hearing a woman screaming through the wall about her hot _consensual_ sex is bad? Try three days of Jon weeping and waking up screaming and see if you ever complain about Anal Zei or Threesome Arianne. Oh wait, you haven’t met Arianne. Um, your friend Wylla or something.”

“You wanted to comfort him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I snuck into his room,” Arya shrugged. “Got under the covers by the foot of the bed, crawled over his legs, and just started… experimenting. I wanted to make him come in his sleep but he ended up waking up part way through. He didn’t say anything though. Once he finished, I asked if I could stay with him for a while and we cuddled. I mean, he was naked, but I wasn’t, at least not then. I mean, well-”

“Just spit it out Arya!” Sansa’s nerves were shot at this point.

“I’m worried you won’t get it!” Arya whined, but after shaking her head in a little tantrum she continued. “We’ve never really done anything after that, but… we play these games.”

“Games?”

“When you’re not around. I’ll just… hang around in my underwear or sit on Jon’s lap without a bra on, right when he doesn’t expect it. Sometimes we’ll wrestle until one of us is pinning the other to the ground or, or, I’ll suck on his nipple or lick his bellybutton and he has to fight me away. My favorite is when I act like a real brat, Jon will pick me up and give my butt a couple of swats and then I’ll pull my underwear down for the last one-”

“Stop, stop.” Sansa snapped her finger at Arya. She was panting.

“What, you don’t like to hear it? I thought you wanted the truth?” Arya suddenly had the evilest smile. “When you’re not here, I like to walk around naked and diddle my clit right in front of him, not even in a sexual way but just so he can see it. I’ll climb on his back and rub myself against the belt of his jeans until he pins my arms to my chest to make me stop. Sometimes I purposely go to his bedroom after a really hard workout and rub the sweat off my neck all over his face. Once in a while I’m satisfied with just a nipple rubbing on his beard, but other times I’ll sit on his face until he throws me off. Sometimes I skip all of that and just jump into the shower with him if I’m feeling especially rotten and he gets me all squeaky clean. But you know the thing about all of this Sansa?”

She couldn’t breathe when she asked “what?”

“JON NEVER EVER DOES ANYTHING!” Arya bellowed.

The cute little manic pixie dream girl vibe that Arya had been giving off all night was gone. Now Arya had the stalwart, unmovable face of a Stark. A look that father had had, Robb might still have, and sometimes Jon had when he wasn’t trying so hard to be happy.

“What do you mean?” Sansa croaked, the emotion thick in her throat. “He just ignores you?”

“It’s like this unspoken thing,” Arya explained more calmly. “Jon is a panicker. You’re more alike than you think. At one point he thought all the things you’re thinking right now. That he was abusing me, taking advantage of me, hurting me, but that’s just not true. Or at least not the honest truth even if it’s the technical one. We had our slip ups before, but our games have never, ever led to anything sexual happening. And even though… even though I really want to… like really, really want to… in a way, I know that if we actually did it, if we actually fucked…”

“You’re testing him,” Sansa realized it as she said it. Arya tipped her head back in surprise and then grinned.

“By the old gods yes! That’s exactly it!” Arya laughed like everything that happened in the past ten minutes hadn’t just occurred. “I could never find the right word. It’s like, Jon would never hurt me even if I wanted him to, so every time we play our stupid game, I give him every chance to finally just fucking prove me wrong and use me for my… my body… to just fucking take me already and… fuck it’s hot to think of it that way… but also wrong. Very wrong…”

Sansa stood up while Arya had her gross epiphany on the bed. “So the point of the game… is for Jon not to have sex with you. And he doesn’t.”

“Exactly!” Arya laughed. “So you see, there’s nothing to worry about-”

“But you are going to eventually fuck him.” 

Arya just shrugged that off. “Right before you moved in, when I knew you moving in meant we wouldn’t get to play the game as much anymore, I cornered Jon and told him, my virginity is his. When I turn 18, it won’t matter anymore. Jon won’t be my guardian or anything, he won’t be raping me in the eyes of the law, so we’ll be free to do it.”

“So you’re going to marry him?” Sansa asked.

Arya shrugged again. Sansa wished she would stop doing that!

“He’ll still be your brother.”

This time Arya didn’t shrug. She sneered. “That’s a weird argument coming from you.”

“What does that mean?”

Arya shook her head in the most condescending way. “I didn’t get it at first either. I would wake up every morning, my underwear drenched and I was feeling like I hadn’t gotten any sleep. I got waaaayy into my nipples after listening to Zei talk about her nipples all the fucking time-”

“Arya, please stop talking about your gross fetishes!” Sansa groaned, crouching and covering her ears with her elbows so her forearms could cover how much she was blushing. “Why would you think I want to hear this?”

“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to know my entire sexual history a minute ago when you thought it included Jon raping me! And you like hearing Jon have sex with those girls too, just admit it,” Arya was leaning next to her on the floor, patting her back. “You touch yourself to the sounds like I do.”

“Nooooooooo….” Sansa whined from her arm burrow. “How did you know?”

“You’re very quiet, I’ve never heard you… but well… I had a very brief period after Edric where I thought maybe I was gay and well… you’re gonna be grossed out, but I know the smell.”

“Ugh.” Sansa dipped her head further down to the floor. "So the reason he fucks all those girls is to deal with how turned on he is from you?"

"Actually, I used to think that," Arya paused in thought. "But since you got here, we can't really do the game anymore and Jon has only slowed down a little bit."

"Oh good, it would be weird if he needed to think about his sister to get off," Sansa madly laughed.

“Jon isn’t our brother, not really, and yet he is. Which means he can still be my big brother… while also being something more.” Sansa peeked an eye out to see that Arya was sitting on the floor next to her. “You can look at that as a weird thing, I get it. But the way I look at it… we get to have both Sansa. We’re lucky.”

“We?” Sansa laughed as loud as she could to show how ludicrous she found this. “What do you mean we? You’re the weird incest fetish freak! I might be physically attracted to Jon, but I’m not like you. I can’t think of him that way.”

“Well that’s dumb.”

“Excuse me?” Sansa was pissed again, though there was less gas in the tank for her vitriol toward Arya. Was she still mad at Jon? She wasn’t sure now.

“I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not dumb,” Arya nodded, looking at least somewhat genuine in her apology. “But it’s just… I don’t know, nonsensical. Sansa, you already don’t think of Jon as your brother. At best you think of him as like, my adoptive dad or something.”

“He is,” Sansa argued, even as she felt that that was the wrong answer.

“No, look, Jon might feed me and help me with my homework, but he’s not…” Arya sighed. “We had great parents Sansa. I know what having a dad is like. Having Jon in my life is not a replacement for that. Stability is not the same as parenting. At best I think of Jon as my adult older brother who is wiser than me, but since dad died… really I’ve been on my own.”

Sansa could feel herself coming up with more arguments to that but honestly she was just so tired. Hadn’t she felt that way herself at times? Hadn’t this night started out as a really good party? Wasn’t it her birthday? Jon had gotten her a private rooftop garden as a gift, so why was she trying so hard to make him the villain?

_”Uncle Petyr, please stop… it doesn’t feel good anymore. You promised-”_

_”Shhh… it’s alright… I’m so close… Cat…”_

“Sansa?”

Her tongue tasted like garbage. At some point Sansa had gone from sitting on the floor to pushing her face into the carpet hard enough that she could feel the fabric indentations on her cheek. She knew where she was and what day it was, that was good, but she couldn’t remember why she had come here.

“Sansa, you’re freaking me out here.”

“Just promise me Arya, promise me…” Sansa’s voice sounded muffled even to herself. “Jon only makes it feel good, right?”

“What?” Arya looked like she was going to say something acidic but then changed her mind. “Of course Sansa. I get the age thing bothering you but honestly… if there’s anyone trying to take advantage of anyone, it’s me trying to take advantage of Jon.”

“Fuck…” Sansa sniffled. “I think I basically implied he was a pedophile to his face.”

“Shit, really?” Arya suddenly stood and grabbed her phone. “I thought if we ever had this talk it would be before you spoke to Jon, and definitely not at your surprisingly successful party.”

As Arya was texting, Sansa glanced down at the Altoids can that had been in her hands. It had fallen to the carpet at some point and Sansa could see now that there was a little baggy with a green substance inside with some small sheets of paper and a single, already rolled joint. The joint Arya had been smoking earlier. She could tell from the lipstick color on the end.

Leonette Fossoway, Margaery’s other brother Garlan’s longtime girlfriend and Treasurer of the Psi Chi King’s Landing Chapter, had been a little bit of a girl crush for Sansa. She was incredibly good at math but also more stereotypical activities like party planning and interior design. She was planning on becoming a big stock market trader to make her and Garlan so rich that he could quit his baseball career early and just run a junior’s league in their hometown like they’d always talked about. Leonette was smart enough for Sansa to believe it might happen.

And Sansa thought of one moment in particular with Leonette Fossoway, when the girl showed her how to properly rip giant bong hit at the Midterm Hoedown party, after Garlan talked about wanting a break. The whole night Leonette had been weird and unfocused and kind of sleepy in an annoying way… but she had forgotten her problems for a night.

_”I just want to enjoy my party. I can put off my apology to Jon and my obvious need for a therapist until tomorrow._

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Arya shouted when she noticed what Sansa was doing. “Fuck, you’re smoking the whole thing! Sansa, stop, that’s a big joint. I was planning on nursing that the whole night and sharing it out.”

“Sucks to be everyone else,” Sansa croaked before letting out her breath, trying to see if she could still make smoke rings like she could when she smoked regular cigarettes in high school.

“Whoa, uh… that was a good hit. Have you… have you done this before?”

The weed was must have been kicking in quickly. “You don’t know my life Arya. You think I’m all sewing holes in dresses and following One Direction on Instagram? I have layers.”

Arya gave her a weird smile. “Wow. Sansa 2.0.”

“Why did you want me to live here?” Sansa asked, not really caring about the answer anymore but still wanting to stall before they went back into the party. “If you knew I might freak out about your weird thing with Jon, it seems like a bad move to invite me to live here.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Arya barked, taking the weed from her. Sansa gave her a skeptical look.

“Seriously!” Arya exclaimed, looking at the joint. “Shit, you really killed it. I guess you needed it though. That was probably the equivalent of like, three lemon drop shots in alcohol terms.”

“Lemon drop!” Sansa shouted. “But seriously, you wanted me to catch you, right?”

“Sansa truly, I didn’t want you here in the first place. If you weren’t here, Jon was just going to pay Sam’s part of the rent and I was going to have him all to myself. I had fantasies about us sleeping in his bed together and making our current room my music studio.”

“So wait… then why did you make the offer to mom?” Sansa still remembered that day so vividly. It was the only time she could remember Arya inviting her anywhere.

“Because Jon thought it would be a good idea,” Arya laughed. “And when I saw how much you wanted to transfer- hey wait, that dick!”

“What?” Sansa asked, confused but really okay with being confused.

“He told me that you should live with us like a week after I gave him that blowjob. He probably wanted you living here to help keep me off of him! And it worked! We’ve only played the game twice now since you started living here. That shit!”

Sansa made a long spitting noise with her lips to show what she thought of that. “So Jon just wanted a… a sexual referee? And he picked me for the job? That’s so fucking crazy, my life is so fucking crazy now Arya. Who would think that way?”

“Well yeah… that’s Jon. Love him or leave him.”

“Wait, wait,” Sansa was remembering something. “That day… when Jon was sitting on the Throne of a Thousand Sighs and you were sitting in his lap reading your iPad… were you naked under that blanket? I felt like you were but-”

“Throne of what?” Arya rolled her eyes. “You know what, never mind. I feel like we're past the constructive phase of this high. Can we get back to the party now?”

“Aye aye Watson.”

She would have more questions tomorrow. Maybe she and Jon could lay some ground rules about this weird game going forward. For now, Sansa got up and got back to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steamy enough for you? No? You want steamier? Comment and kudos please!


	4. Chapter 4 - Sansa's Party (Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party was fun... but the after party is where the real action happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, this is a long one.

**5:59 A.M.**

Sansa sipped at her coffee, the warm bitter flavors flooding her body with warmth and comfort. Her head felt like it was in a vice, her mouth felt like a deflated balloon, and light was her eternal enemy, yet her nausea wouldn’t let her sleep through the night. For the first time in her life, Sansa didn’t even want any sugar or cream in her coffee. She just wanted the restorative abilities of caffeine to wipe away all her troubles.

Plus, it gave her something to do while she watched.

Mya kept fidgeting with her bangs every other sentence while Jon just listened, standing whisper-close to her face, one arm up against the wall, his elbow craning over both of their heads. Though she was almost the same height as Jon, he seemed to tower over her in that moment. Mya would keep making eye contact and then breaking it, but if she looked away for too long, Jon would say something that made her look back up at him again. Sansa had to roll her eyes at how cliché a picture they made, like Jon couldn’t stand for there to be any space between them, yet needed to make his actions appear as inadvertent as possible to keep up the seduction. It was kind of funny really.

Jon had heavy bags under his eyes from staying awake all night. Sansa, as the host no less, had been in and out of consciousness for a couple of hours at that point. Arya had gone to bed right after Gendry left the party.

The party well and truly ended around 1:30, when Grenn started singing about a dancing bear and Pyp declared that waffles were needed for all. Myranda decided to join in on waffles while Sansa decided to pass out on the couch, her head tipping off of Jon’s shoulder when he stood up. He was grabbing his shoes when Mya shook Sansa out of her inebriated stupor.

“Sansa! Hey, are you sober enough for questioning?”

“No,” Sansa had whined, pulling Arya’s abandoned party wig over her face. “Sansa died three lemon shots ago. I am but a wight that would like to sleep now.”

“Sansa please, I would never, ever do this normally, but I just know I’m going to kick myself all night if I don’t-”

“Okay, okay what is it?” 

The tone in Mya’s voice was light and panicked, and Sansa couldn’t imagine strong-willed and stubborn-headed Mya ever being so emotionally wrought. Sansa wiped the sleep from her eyes and rubbed the false alcoholic warmth from her cheeks so she could focus on listening.

“What do you need?”

Mya blushed. “Is it okay if I… stay over with Jon tonight?”

“Oh sure, that’s no problem, go ahead.” Sansa was about to lie down before her brain caught up. “Wait, what?”

“It’s really not like that, okay?” Mya’s blush somehow grew. “Look, I really like him and nothing is going to happen, I promise you, I just want to-to keep talking to him, okay? I’ve only ever dated Mychel… it just feels like everything I do and think now when it comes to other men is just about comparing stuff to him. but with Jon it feels... different.”

Sansa waited for Mya to finish before she responded. “If you like Jon, ask him out. You have my blessing.” What else could she say?

“Thank you Sansa! I know this is weird, I feel weird asking you, but I just had to try, you know? Jon insisted I talk to you first, but I knew you would be cool with it.” Mya gave her a brief hug then stood up and walked over to Jon. He was about to follow the party out the door when she gripped him by the wrist.

She and Jon shared a few whispered words and then looked over at Sansa. Maybe she was still drunk or maybe she was just tired… tired of thinking about Jon as the bad guy, of always needing to be a den mother to other women, but whatever the reason, Sansa just didn't care anymore. She shrugged without thought and gave Jon a little wave, to show that he had her approval or whatever it was he was looking for, and eventually Jon must have decided to believe her because his attention went back to Mya.

Sansa passed out soon after that, so when she woke up a few hours later, sundress crumpled up around her thighs, her hair a mess of knots and tangles, Sansa was a bit discombobulated. 

She stood up from the couch and was about to crawl into her room to lay in a bed, when she caught sight of Mya putting her leather jacket on by the door. Jon was dutifully holding her purse for her. Rather than interrupt or miss anything juicy, Sansa stayed as silent as possible, slinking away to the kitchen. The pot was full of coffee and there was a box of donuts on the table.

She was on her third jelly-filled by the time Jon closed the door, giving Mya one last lingering goodbye kiss.

Sansa watched as Jon stood in front of the door for a few moments after that, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands. Overnight he had changed out of his party clothes into an outfit that felt truer to Jon’s personality as Sansa thought of it. Jon had his glasses on instead of contacts, dark green sweatpants, and a black t-shirt that was clearly from high school, based on the way it practically strained across the broad expanse of his chest. The short sleeves were barely keeping their elastic around those arms.

“So now has Mya joined the harem?” Sansa joked, though she instantly regretted it because it was Mya. “Shit, sorry, I mean, are you two going to start seeing each other? Like you do with Val?” If Jon respected Mya as much as he did Val, Sansa felt confident that she could be fine with them also being intimate.

“Actually after talking out her feelings for Mychel and sex in general, and considering the new workload she’s going to get from the Micro-Bio lab she’s taking next semester, she agreed with my suggestion that she stay single for a while.” Jon sat down across from Sansa, some sort of brown paper-wrapped gift in his hand. “She said I could call her as a friend if I ever wanted to hang out.”

Sansa couldn’t help herself. “You mean friends… like friends with benefits?”

“Not at all,” Jon shook his head. “Mya only had sex with Mychel because he pressured her, even though she knew he liked someone else. From now on, she only ever wants to have sex with a man who loves her and her alone, and since we just met last night and barely know each other, we’re going to keep our relationship from becoming physical.”

“Wait, wait, isn’t that too late?” Sansa tried to hide her blush. “What were you two doing all night if not being physical?”

The whole morning Jon had seemed to be floating in a blissful, sluggish state, but now his face became etched in alarm. “Nothing Sansa. I promised you I wouldn’t sleep with any of your friends, and I meant it. We just spent the whole night talking.”

“And kissing?” Sansa laughed.

Jon managed to blush and frown at once. “Yes, once or twice we would get caught up and start things… but that was it. Any time it got too heated, I told Mya I was uncomfortable and she stopped. When I was the one losing control, Mya stopped me. We were trying to be respectful of one another.”

The room was filled with that sort of stillness that could only come from being awake so early in the morning. It wasn’t quite night, but the day had not started, so the world was still sitting in that perfect silence that nature always had before the world made that first break of noise. 

That’s what Sansa and Jon were waiting for ultimately. Would Sansa acknowledge this tension between them or would Jon? What would be left when the silence was broken? Sansa glanced over at the coffee pot, full of enough liquid energy to keep Sansa’s head on straight for a couple hours, then at the box of donuts, a pen mark on the side that read: Order #3, Jon (broody one).

“I’m sorry.” Sansa thought for a moment about taking it back but then continued. “I don’t know why I keep being so mean to you Jon.”

The tension melted and Jon melted too. “You’re not being mean. You’re trying to be a good friend to Mya.”

“By being a bad friend to you?” Sansa shook her head. “That’s not necessary. That’s my stuff. By saying I’m doing it for Mya, I’m not treating her like an adult, and I mean, that’s just arrogant of me considering that Mya’s even older than you.”

Jon shrugged as he sat down, placing the brown package on the table. Sansa saw then that it had her name written on the front.

“Age is just a number really,” Jon said before he realized how that sounded. “Which is not- Arya and I- we need to talk about all of that. Now that you’re sober.” He looked ready for a fight but Sansa just wasn’t feeling it anymore.

“Forget about that.” Sansa sighed. “I already talked about it with Arya.”

“Oh?” Jon paused. “She told you… everything?”

“In gruesome detail.” Sansa took another sip of her coffee, the bitter flavor balancing well with the cloying jelly taste in her mouth. “But it was illuminating. I won’t pretend that I understand or even necessarily approve, but at the end of the day, if Arya is doing great in every respect except for this one weird thing, then I can get over it.”

“Really? So, you’re fine with it now? With Arya’s…” Jon struggled with the word for a moment before he said, “Games? Because honestly Sansa, it seemed to me like maybe you were having a panic at-”

“I was projecting my own baggage onto Arya,” Sansa interrupted, quick to get the focus back on her sister and a thousand leagues away from her own problems. “I never listened to Arya when we were kids so… so even though I have problems with you and her being together, or whatever you would call it, I’m going to listen to her now and not interfere.”

There was silence again but this time it wasn’t as tense. She and Jon just let her words sink in for a moment. Seeming satisfied with her answer, Jon nodded and stood, grabbing a cup from one of their cupboards to pour himself some coffee. He sat and took a long sip before he sagged into his chair, letting the tension in his back melt away. It reminded Sansa of a cat, in the way that they melted into furniture when they were relaxed.

“You know, she probably made it sound more intense than it is,” Jon explained. “At the end of the day, as much as she says she wants me to be her first, I don’t think it’s going to happen that way.”

“Why is that?” Sansa asked carefully, wary of this topic yet admittedly a little eager to see where it went.

Jon smiled. It was a rare sight, one of his actual smiles that filled his whole face with joy, but it always happened when he was talking about Arya. Or when he was talking to her.

“Arya has herself a little boyfriend.”

Sansa had been too busy reminiscing about all the times Jon had smiled at her to really hear the words he just said. Then they registered. Sansa flung herself forward in her seat so hard that the edge of their table banged into her hip.

“She does?” Sansa was so excited to gossip about her sister.

“Oh yeah. Remember Gendry from last night?”

Sansa gasped. “I do!”

_”You thinks he’s a LITTLE boyfriend? The 6’4” giant who spent the whole night hovering over Arya and called himself Bull without a hint of shame? Myranda was making comments about his size all night…”_

“Are you sure they’re dating?” Sansa asked in as measured a tone as she could manage. “I mean, it’s clear he’s mooning over her, but they’re actually together?”

“Arya says they aren’t,” Jon answered. “But they spend so much time together, and when she isn’t trying to play her games with me, Arya pretty much spends any time we have together talking about him. The signs are all there.”

Sansa was doing her most admirable work not freaking out. “How does she know him? He’s older, isn’t he?” _”Can’t Arya just date some cute 16 year-old band geek or something?”_

“Her music teacher Mr.Yoren suggested that Arya get more practice by joining a band. He knew some former students that needed a bassist. It’s mostly college aged guys, and I was right there worrying with you at first, but I made sure to meet them and they seem like a good group of misfits. They call themselves the Brotherhood without Banners, you can look them up. She’s like the little sister of the entire band. They all look out for her.”

“Including Gendry. What is he like 25?”

“Believe it or not… he’s only a few months older than you Sansa. And he’s from King’s Landing originally, proper Upper Eastside-blooded family and everything.”

Sansa knew she was gaping now. Joffrey was from that area. “Are you sure he’s real? He looks like he was grown in a pod by a bunch of horny female scientists.”

Jon almost spit his coffee before he managed to catch himself, so he only ended up drooling brown liquid out of mouth and his nose and all over his lap. The sight made Sansa laugh as well and soon they were both caught up in a burst of the giggles. Clearly sleep-deprivation had kicked in. Every time they thought they were done laughing, one of them would start again and they continued like that for a while. Carelessly floating in this in between time.

“He’s giant Jon, and she’s just a little slip of a girl…” Sansa managed to gasp between breaths of laughter. “If they ever start dating, they’re going to look so ridiculous!”

“They’re already ridiculous,” Jon cut in. “You know that outer underwear thing Arya wore last night? (“They’re called Spanx Jon.”) The ones with the little hammer on it?”

“Oh gods, what about them?” Sansa questioned as she wiped away tears. “I swear to the Crone, Arya should just have the word “Jailbait” tattooed across her forehead.”

“No, no, Arya had a very specific scheme in mind,” Jon started, holding back his laughter long enough to explain. “Gendry’s nickname is actually Hammer, among the band. Something about the way he hammers a guitar? I don’t know. Only Arya calls him Bull. She sewed that hammer on herself because she wanted him to see it, all so she could watch for a reaction. Because that's how Arya deals with her emotions I guess. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about M.C. Hammer reference, or that Gendry already notices her all the time.”

That made Sansa’s laughter pause.

“Oh no Jon…”

“What is it?”

“It totally backfired,” Sansa continued. “All night Gendry was Arya’s shadow, but the moment I pointed out Arya’s spanx, he left the party without a word. Arya was asking where he went all night and... I was drunk and wasn't thinking so I finally snapped and told her… I told her he found her clothing offensive.”

“Oh…” Jon’s smile died along with Sansa’s. “Well. I'm sure she didn't take you too seriously.”

“I meant it as a joke! I didn’t know they were… I mean he did leave so I thought maybe it was true… I mean Arya didn’t say anything about having a crush on him.”

“Well, Arya doesn’t know Gendry is already a goner for her.” Jon reached over and rubbed her shoulder, such a male way of trying to cheer someone up. “So no harm there. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

The mood having been sufficiently deflated, Jon and Sansa sat in silence again. It was sort of sad but also stirring. The moment of fun was over but now she and Jon had shared something, a moment of understanding that existed outside of their previous relationship. Arya was the single most important person in the world to both of them… and for the first time, Sansa felt how that bonded her and Jon.

Jon seemed to remember what he was holding then and offered it up to her. The return address listed New York.

“Mya noticed this on our mat. Might be a birthday present from Catelyn? Or a college friend?”

“Maybe.”

Jon stood up and mumbled something about changing his pants while Sansa carefully untied the twine tying off the wrapping paper. It was rough and sloppily assembled, almost like the person had packed it in a rush. When the paper was opening, at first Sansa thought there was nothing inside but a flat piece of cardboard that helped it keep its square shape. Then she saw the peak of something inside.

She gripped it lightly between her forefinger and her thumb, sliding an envelope out from the mess of wrapping. It was white and unsealed, the flap simply folded in to keep it closed, a rubber band wrapped around the middle. It looked like an ordinary envelope that you might get from an office.

“Is that blood?”

She started at Jon’s voice, having forgotten that he was there for a moment. Jon had gone to his room and changed at some point while she opened the package, now wearing black basketball shorts, a red tank top in his hands that he hadn’t had a chance to put on yet. Sansa turned the envelope over to see what Jon had; a large mahogany brown splotch. It was indeed blood.

“Sansa, who is that from?”

“I don’t know Jon, there’s no name on the return address.” Sansa waved his hand away from snatching at her. “It was sent to me, let me look.”

She pulled the flap out and was greeted by the sight of money. Green bills set in a tight line, obviously packed together by a machine, though a few bills on one end looked frayed and damaged. Money that had been added by hand to the pile later. Sansa pressed her thumb inside to lift the corner up and see the first bill. She was greeted by the sight of Septon Barth, former Hand of the King of Westeros, and the face of the $100.00-dollar bill.

“This is my money…” Sansa muttered, her confusion growing as much as her fear.

“What? Sansa, how do you know it’s yours?”

She pulled the pile out and fanned it across the table. “This is $7,214.00.” She closed her eyes in thought.

“It’s every penny I ever saved from every birthday check, weekly allowance, cash prizes from every mall beauty contest mother entered me into. Every dime I found on the ground and quarter I pulled from the couch, this was all the money I had in the world that mom and dad didn’t just give to me. This was my independence.”

Sansa picked up a few of the bills that had clearly faced harsher treatment. The rest had come from a bank. Clean, brand new bills from her local bank in King’s Landing. She smelled one of the wrinkled 20s and detected alcohol, sweat, and the sadly familiar odor of body butter that many Flea Bottom strippers liked to use. Joffrey always smelled that way and Sansa had never known why, until the end.

“Sansa, I’m confused. Who sent you this?”

She couldn’t help it. She told herself that she wasn’t that girl anymore. That weak, stupid child who got emotional and let the pain get the best of her. She was supposed to be brave like father, strong like Robb, a Stark who brought honor to being a Stark. Her mother was strong. Arya was strong. Sansa just wanted to be strong too. Just once.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks anyway. Her body bucked forward in a sob. She felt like she was doing that a lot recently. Jon gathered her up into a hug and Sansa clawed into him. She rubbed her face against his shoulder because it was there and it was solid and her instinct was to stay close to someone. To be safe.

“Sansa?”

“Sandor. His name is Sandor Clegane,” Sansa hiccupped. “He sent it. I gave him the money to do something… and now he’s sent it back to me. Meaning he didn’t do it.”

“Why did you give him all of your money?” Jon asked, slowly petting her hair. It felt kind of weird but also soothed her a bit.

“Because I wanted him… I wanted him to kill someone.” Jon’s grip tightened. “I wanted him to kill Petyr Baelish.”

*****

**9:32 A.M.**

_By the end of her first semester, Sansa was just done._

_She was finally done with Joffrey’s cheating. She was finally done competing with Margaery. And she was finally willing to admit that some of those so-called sluts, as Sansa had called them, were in truth the victims of her creepy, cheating, online stalker of a boyfriend. She’d had enough. One semester of almost failing all her classes and finding out that all her friends were liars or sellouts was enough misery for Sansa to get the message. Robb was right. Father was right. Even fucking Arya was right._

_It was time for Sansa to return to Winterfell._

_But the day Sansa called her mom to talk about all of it, Joffrey, Margaery, her classes, was the same day that Robb lost the company. For the first time in Sansa’s life, she couldn’t get her mother’s attention. Catelyn Stark had always made herself available for her children as a lifeline, a safety net, a warm hug. When the days became too hard or the exams too stressful, Sansa always called her mother._

_Except every call was going to voicemail and every text was answered with an auto-generated “We’ll Talk Later” or “Call Uncle Brynden.” Sansa got the point after a while._

_She was still planning to leave King’s Landing for good though. She would just drop in on mother as a surprise at home, but she had wanted to make one last stop before she left the city behind her forever._

_Petyr’s house._

_When Sansa had first started having her doubts about Joffrey, Petyr was the only one who listened. When she told him that she wanted proof of Joff’s cheating, he had provided her with the number for Private Detective Dontos. He was a drunk and he always stared at her tits, but he was good at what he did. He found every single one of Joff’s little hidey holes._

_And when she wanted to know how it started, how long Joff had been this way, Petyr was the one who emailed her the files he had hacked from Joffrey’s smartphone. Hundreds of sexts and emails and receipts for dating websites, some of which were basically just expensive escort services. She and Petyr had sat down and read every single one, together. A few times she asked if they could stop, but he was very insistent that she see every single perversion, so she could completely understand who her boyfriend was. That’s what he said anyway._

_When he tried showing her Joff’s secret journal, marked in a “Hidden” folder, she’d had to stop. All the girls in the pictures were unconscious and Sansa was worried there would be one of her in there. She didn’t want to see that. Or Petyr to see that._

_She had come so close to marrying a monster, had been spared from making the worst mistake of her life, that it only felt right that she show her gratitude. Besides, Petyr had encouraged her design work. Even mother couldn’t help but insist she focus on Marketing instead. He just had… something charming about the way he spoke to her. Petyr made her smile._

_Afterwards, when she was crying in his shower, wondering what had happened to her and why her life had come to this point, she vowed that she would always remember this as the moment when the song of her life ended. The fairytale childhood that her father had given her, the strength and lessons her mother had tried to teach her; it all just amounted to blood and tears, and even that was washed away down Petyr’s shower drain._

_She wasn’t even surprised when he turned on her. When Sansa asked that they never do such a thing again, Petyr became insulted, nagging. He accused her of seducing him and using him to get back at her boyfriend. Sansa apologized so he would just let her leave. As she walked down his driveway, he reminded her how he would be having tea with her mother in a few days, to go over their family’s holdings in the Riverlands._

_She got the fucking hint at that point._

“Sandor Clegane was one of Joffrey’s men, and I mean men like you imagine. Like a hired goon from the movies. Even though Joff was just a rich prep kid with mommy issues, he had to use his money to get involved with drug dealers, prostitutes, whatever made him feel strong.” Sansa still remembered how Sandor would always call her “Little Bird,” first as an insult, but then later… 

“He’s gone now,” Jon whispered, urging her to continue.

“Sandor protected Joff from the really bad people,” Sansa went on. “He protected me from Joffrey sometimes too. He never did anything heroic. Just… always reminded Joffrey that he would quit if he had to help cover up a murder.”

“Fucking hells, Sansa…”

Jon’s grip tightened around her again, the bicep of his left arm pushing over her chin and onto her lips. One of her arms was trapped under Jon’s back, slowly losing blood as her fingers dangled over the nape of his hair. The other arm was lying across Jon’s chest, her forearm under his nipple, her hand spread open against his stomach. She dragged a finger up Jon’s chest and then tapped it against his arm to indicate he loosen.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. She tangled her legs with his to make herself more comfortable again.

“Sandor had a code. That’s why I thought he might do it. Even though Joff and I were done, I still had Sandor’s cell for emergencies. I called him and we met up in my car, gave him the money, Petyr’s address, and told him to do what he did best.

“I… became a murderer…” 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Jon-”

“Sansa, take it from someone who has actually killed a person, your hands are clean.”

It was the same conversational dance they’d been having for hours. When Sansa first started crying at the kitchen table, there was no stopping it. Jon tried to talk to her but she couldn’t be consoled. She didn’t want to be consoled. She didn’t deserve it. Eventually Jon settled for just hugging her. As his arms wrapped around her sides, Sansa thought she would freak out and see Petyr again, Joffrey, Sandor, something that would frighten her and take her away from this moment. It seemed that men always found a way to make her feel that way.

Instead it was just Jon. He was crying too she realized. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and Jon moved to wipe them away but Sansa saw. The tears that he had shed for her, that he felt for himself. She realized that Jon was in just as much agony as her, though for distinct reasons. She was sure of it. Pain tended to draw other people in pain. Sansa knew that now too, because of Mya. Because of Arya.

It was just instinct on her part. She’d reached her finger up and wiped away one of Jon’s tears, her fingernail dancing softly across his cheek. Her hand went around his neck. 

Then she kissed him.

A fire awoke inside her at that kiss, a roaring pillar of flame that engulfed everything around it and salted the earth behind it. It allowed for nothing but the rushing ache that exploded from her lips as they touched Jon’s, the compounded desire of the past month causing a thigh-quivering, volcanic eruption in her brain. The sensation went down her neck and into her chest, making her nipples suddenly tight and painful before it eventually became stimulating. That buzz lingered as heat travelled down from Jon’s tongue between her lips and back into her throat, falling deeper and deeper into her belly until it was even deeper than that.

She supposed it was an old dress. She had worn it for years, even let out it’s bust when her breasts started coming in more. Maybe that had… compromised the integrity of the stitching. It wasn’t designer or anything. Just a Sears dress. Something her father had bought her for a Sunday Business function or some small thing.

So it wasn’t a big loss when Jon gripped the sleeve and pulled, the entire left side coming apart in tatters as he lowered his lips to the newly exposed skin near her armpit. Sansa gasped but it quickly became a moan as Jon cupped her ass on the other side of the dress, the scraps only hanging onto Sansa’s side because of Jon’s arm wrapped around her hip.

“Sansa, I never stop thinking about you…”

“Stop talking.”

Sansa took Jon by the ears and pulled him back to her lips, shedding the rest of her destroyed dress and about to undo her bra when she stopped.

Because Jon was stepping back from her.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jon said with as much decency and character one man can muster when he was that hard. “You’re very emotional and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Sansa nodded at his words. Looking at Jon, hunched over and trying to hide his erection from her… for her… it demystified him a little bit in her eyes. Last night she had wanted to retreat into weed to get away from her problems. It seemed today she had wanted to try a taste of Stupid, Sexy Jon Snow. Except Jon really was the good guy she had hoped and was trying to do the gentlemanly thing, even now. That was what she wanted in the end she supposed.

“You’re right…” Sansa panted, reaching her hands up to cover her bra. “That way only leads to more complications.”

“Exactly,” Jon nodded. “I’m here if you need to talk… but just to talk.”

“Yes, I would like to talk,” Sansa agreed, surprised more than anyone that she felt like she meant it. “Except… let’s not make this awkward. If we try to sit at the table or… I don’t know, sit on opposite sides of the apartment, it’ll seem too much like we’re trying to avoid each other. It’ll be all awkward.”

“What do we do then?” Jon asked, covering up the way he adjusted himself by clearing his throat.

“We’re attracted to one another, that’s agonizingly clear, but we can be adults about it. So… what would you do right now with one of your friends?”

“My friends?” Jon raised an eyebrow.

“Your female friends.” _”Like Zei maybe.”_

So, Jon had laid back on the couch, awkwardly placing his body at an angle so he could lie completely flat across the sectional. Sansa got the idea quickly and laid on her side next to Jon, facing his chest. At first, they waited like that, his arms up above his head and hers in front of her covering her bits, but at one point or another he wrapped one arm around her back and she did the same. Sansa still fidgeted for a while before she found the right place along Jon’s clavicle to lay her head.

He was better than a pillow. He was a living, breathing teddy bear. Sansa felt more comfortable than she’d remembered in a good long while. And just like that, she followed the feeling and let the memories just spill out. 

She felt exhausted after talking for so long.

“Sandor took the money and said it would get done. I had nightmares about it all the time. I thought I would see something in the news, but I never did.” Sansa ran her finger around Jon’s navel, dipping down to feel the crease between his abdominals and his hips.

“Hey, that tickles,” Jon complained without any conviction. “How do you know sending the money back means he didn’t do it? Maybe he means to do it for free.”

“No, I’m sure. It’s just… how he would communicate.” Sansa moved her hand away from Jon’s fascinating waistline and tapped his chin with her finger. “And hey, aren’t you going to be a cop or whatever one day? That shouldn’t be your response to my murder confession. You should be arresting me!”

Jon laughed and caught her hand in front of his face, trapping it to his chest. If Sansa threw her whole body-weight into it she could probably free her hand, but on arm strength alone Jon had her completely ensnared. She was fine with that feeling though.

“Honestly Sansa, knowing what he did, what he continues to do to you… I’m thinking about killing Baelish myself.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and then her head, taking Jon’s nipple in her mouth and gnawing it lightly. It was a strange impulse, but then lying half-naked with Jon in their living room was a strange impule and that had gone over swimmingly. 

Jon yelped and let her go, freeing Sansa to sit up for the first time in hours, leaning her weight on the hand that was under Jon while she used her other hand to pin him down by the shoulder. Now she was on top. Sansa found it was to her liking.

“I’m glad Sandor isn’t going to do it. I pray that whatever rage is inside him becomes gentle. I don’t want him to kill anyone, let alone on my order.” Sansa avoided Jon’s eyes then. “You know all the tabloids say that’s exactly what mother did to Walder Frey.”

Jon had the grace to pretend he was shocked. “Whatever they’re saying, you believe Robb first.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sansa shook her head. “I’m just glad that I didn’t make such a terrible mistake. Petyr needs the Stark/Stag accounts. He won’t jeopardize anything. If I just stay away, he won’t be able to cause any trouble. Killing him was just about-”

She was kidding herself about the pinning Jon idea. He shot up like a bullet and onto his knees, placing himself behind Sansa and wrapping around her. His naked chest was hugging her back, the skin of his stomach inflaming the skin along her spine. It was warm and sweet and Jon smelled like sweat in a manly way that Sansa couldn’t help but like. 

Is this what all these girls were so drawn to? Sansa could understand why. Jon Snow might be well-known for his sexual abilities but he was a god when it came to cuddling.

Sansa’s thoughts were interrupted when Jon abruptly laid back, fell back actually, making Sansa yelp as her world flipped over and the wind got knocked out of her. She slammed into Jon’s chest, sinking back into his skin and his warmth. His power.

“Careful, I’m too heavy,” Sansa whined.

“Sweetling, you’re like a feather to me. I could toss you around with one arm most likely.”

In this new position, Sansa realized how wet she was.

“None of the stuff that happened to you matters, okay?” Jon continued, unknowing of the storm brewing in Sansa’s mind. “The past is behind you. You’re looking forward now. All we can ever do is look forward.”

Sansa focused on that so as not to focus on the growing heat between her legs. “Yeah well, what is that even? Taking classes at a school that doesn’t challenge me? All because I get to practice my sewing while making costumes for their no budget theater department?”

“I thought you liked your classes.”

“I do, I just… I remember when I was in the fashion capital of Westeros, being surrounded by the designers who inspired me when I was Bran’s age. I guess I forgot the things I was giving up by coming here.” Sansa chuckled. “Plus I wasn’t prepared to become Jon Snow’s sexual arbiter.”

“Oh, come on,” Jon hooted, his whole body shaking and his stomach vibrating against Sansa’s spine.

“I did not invite you here to help me with Arya, if that’s what you think.”

“No? Then what was it?” Sansa sat up and tussled her hair, trying to remember a time when she and Jeyne Poole would listen to boy bands and make sexy faces in her mirror. “Did you want to finally seduce me and complete the full sexy Stark sister set?”

Jon was unmoved. “No, I did it for Arya.”

Sansa blew an errant lock of oh-so-sexily-messed-up hair out of her face. “Wait, for Arya? How does my being here help you with Arya?”

“It’s not to help _me_ with Arya, it’s to help Arya.” Jon sighed. “I see her becoming too much like me every day.”

“Like you?” Sansa thought for a moment. “Like sex-crazed?”

Jon chuckled. “Maybe. But more like… not gentle. Cool. Detached. Lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Every girl needs another girl to show them the way,” Jon went on, ignoring Sansa’s question. “I care about Arya, but at the end of the day, she needs someone else who can help her with feminine stuff. Stuff I have no clue about. She needs you Sansa. She needs her sister.”

“She has Val,” Sansa’s voice was flat. “I mean, Arya’s basically becoming a miniature version of her. Loudly feminist, brazenly sexual, and so fucking arrogant in her goddamn natural beauty.”

Sansa’s tone must have sounded harsher than she thought because Jon looked distressed by her words.

“Val has helped me with Arya a lot, and Arya does look up to her it’s true, but that doesn’t make her a sister. To have a relationship like that…” Jon looked heartbroken then. It was strange. 

Sansa brushed her hand over his cheek and like before, his eyes fluttered at her touch.

“What do you mean?”

“Val is like me…” Jon whispered. “She’s hollowed out inside.”

“What?” Sansa pushed herself up along Jon’s chest to hear more of what he was saying, her lips next to his as she lowered her weight down on his legs… her mound rubbing on his-

“Holy. Shit.”

Sansa and Jon jumped apart. Sansa sat up on her hands and knees while Jon managed to do a sit-up thing that curled all his muscles into a fist, primed and ready to pounce.

Though thoughts like that quickly disappeared from Sansa’s mind when she saw Arya.

And boy had Arya outdone herself this time.

At first Sansa thought her sister was wearing some sort of tight, grey, sleeveless halter-top until she looked more closely. It was something Sansa had never seen before in real life, almost like a grey one piece bathing suit but clearly not water-proof. It was made of some sort of shiny, cotton material that it looked oh-so-tempting to the touch and probably amazingly soft on Arya's skin. Though it was so tight that Sansa had to wonder how Arya even got the thing on. There was a trendy ladder-cut on the sides to expose some extra skin, and Arya had decided to forego pants to complete the look, letting her ass hang out of the bottom with no shame. Though Arya did wear knee-length, blue and white striped socks, almost feigning the image of pants, Sansa knew girls only wore socks that high for a very specific purpose.

The material did nothing to hide Arya’s hardened nipples. If anything it made her nipples draw the eye more. There was an oval cut over the bellybutton too, a little wink of skin, which solidified in Sansa’s mind that this thing was not designed for athletics in mind.

Arya was stunned by the sight of them. They were stunned by the sight of her. Sansa was the one to break the silence.

“Fuck you Arya, are you kidding me? You don’t have a single stretch mark on your goddamn hips? On your thighs?”

“Wha-what?” Arya looked frustrated but also curious. 

Sansa kicked her leg up and pointed at three small lines near her groin. “These. They’re called stretch marks. One day you’ll get them too and I’ll laugh at you.”

“I don’t- what are you two doing?” Arya asked, avoiding the bait.

“Cuddling,” Sansa answered before Jon could sputter a response. “I was getting emotional over some personal stuff and Jon was comforting me.”

“Naked cuddling?” Arya giggled. 

Sansa was still in her matching purple bra and underwear set that she’d specifically worn to feel on point in that way that only matching underwear could make you feel, even though she hadn’t planned on anyone seeing it. Jon was in just his underwear. _”Wait, when did he take off his running shorts?”_

“Oh yeah? Well what were you planning with that get up?” Sansa gestured her head up and down at Arya’s outfit.

She seemed to have forgotten she was wearing it, but the moment she was reminded, Arya changed her posture. She lifted one foot up to emphasize her legs and straightened out her back to try and make her chest stick out more, running her fingers through her hair and over her neck. Arya was very visibly trying her utmost to look sexy… unaware that her natural presence did all that work for her.

“Well, I figured since you know about me and Jon now, we would… get a little cozy this morning.”

“You snooze you lose,” A stranger spoke with Sansa’s voice. 

She followed that up by laying her head on Jon’s chest and embracing him, pressing her nose down into his neck as hard as she could as his beard scratched against her ear. She split her legs over one of his, her arms rubbing down along his sides. She could hear his breath racing.

“What is happening right now?” Arya laughed. “Is this real life? Sansa Stark, getting fresh with her _brother_ right in front of me?”

“Hey, be nice to her,” Jon scolded, threading his fingers into Sansa’s hair to make sure her body stayed glued to his even as he sat up. It bent her spine in a weird, a toe-curling way.

“Oh, you take her side now Jon? I wonder why.” Arya’s face was filled with evil intent.

But it was child’s play to the evil smirk Jon had.

“Sansa, did you know Arya is on the cheerleading team at her school?” Jon spoke as if Arya wasn’t there. “That’s how she stays so fit, and why she seems to eat everything in sight and not gain a pound. Arya isn’t hanging out with her friends at the arcade after school. The team has practice every day at 4.”

And just like that, the monster was vanquished, leaving only an incensed Arya. Her face was blank, then hurt, then red.

“FUCKING FUCK JON!! THAT WAS THE ONLY THING I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL SANSA!!”

Whatever sexy and alluring effect Arya had accomplished was vanishing by the second. Sansa’s little sister scrunched up her shoulders and stomped her foot like a right, proper 3-year old, screaming at the top of her lungs. Jon eventually had to leave Sansa, if only to keep Arya from waking the entire city. He walked over carefully but assured, saying comforting words and soothing the infuriated little sexpot by rubbing her shoulders like she always liked. 

But Arya was immune to his efforts for once. When she threw Jon’s arms off her shoulders, he said something in protest that she ignored. Jon was still smiling at her willfulness so he pinched her butt, the left cheek having peaked out from the bottom of her suit. 

“Hey! I didn’t say you could touch my butt you fucking perv!”

“I couldn’t help it,” Jon chuckled. This carefree and playful side of Jon intrigued Sansa even more, and Jon was already ceaselessly intriguing.

Arya pushed at Jon’s chest but he only laughed as she sent herself sliding back along the floor, her socks causing her to lose all friction. She did it a second time, keeping her footing more stable, so Jon just tickled her ribs.

Arya punched him in the face.

It was just a quick right hook to Jon’s cheek, just like Robb had taught Sansa before she started high school, but it seemed so much more violent. Sansa gasped. Arya did too. Jon appeared paralyzed by what had happened, standing still as a statue. It seemed… a bit over the top honestly. Arya hadn’t hit him that hard.

“Arya, apologize to Jon, right now. That was not okay,” Sansa said in her most Catelyn Stark-like voice, the sexy time clearly over. “Jon, I apologize for Arya acting like a real brat and forgetting her… manners…”

Jon was still frozen, like his brain was still deciding on his reaction and needed to make a hard reboot first. He pressed a hand to his cheek, checking the feeling there. It was surreal. Arya acted strangely too. She just stared at Jon with a sort of horror… way more fear than was necessary actually. It reminded Sansa of bad horror movies, when the scantily clad heroine was waiting for her cue to scream from the director.

“I-I’m so sorry Jon…” Arya mewled, her fingers nervously pulling the back of her suit down over her bottom as she bounced back and forth on her heels. “I mean it, really…”

“No you don’t.” Jon growled.

His arm shot out and gripped Arya by the throat, causing her to gasp and cough. At first Arya was whining, a sort of pitiful, fearful sound… but slowly her voice became more insistent. More needful. Arya didn’t even try to stop Jon from choking her, didn’t try to touch his hands at all. She was surrendering, her arms down by her sides. It was a strange and enticing look on typically willful Arya.

Jon just held her there, one hand on her throat and the other moving slowly up her chest. Arya started pulling on the back of her suit again, like she was afraid she would get a wedgie at any moment and show her bits off to the room.

That’s when Sansa realized what was happening.

Arya was pulling on the bottom of her suit to keep it from getting too wet.

“You’re right, I don’t mean it,” she croaked. “I’ve been so bad Jon… so naughty.”

“I agree.” Jon’s voice sounded terrifying now, yet Arya grinned at the sound. “You need to be punished.”

Arya’s grin vanished (and yet…)

Jon let go of Arya's throat, letting her gasp a big moutful of air before he gripped her by the hair, a good thick fistful that made Arya groan in pain as he dragged her over to the couch. Sansa freaked out for a moment, thinking that Jon was going to grab her hair too, but instead he sat down on the couch, near to Sansa’s feet. Jon then forced Arya to her knees, then facedown on the coffee table, their cups of cold and forgotten coffee clanging softly as Arya’s cheek was pressed down into the finished wood. Arya was trying to use the table to push away with her arms, but after one try where she almost scrambled up to her feet, Jon ruthlessly kicked the back of Arya's knee, dropping her back down to where he wanted her. His arm shook for a while as she kicked and shimmied but after a few minutes of struggle, Arya gave up the fight.

Only then, when Arya was no longer squirming, did Jon press the palm of his other hand on Arya’s stomach, right over her bellybutton, lifting. Arya was made to keep her legs straight and locked together, her face still held down by Jon’s hand. Her body was now bent in a 90 degree angle over the table, and Sansa was once again struck by her sister’s flexibility. 

Jon switched his hands then, keeping his right around Arya’s neck so she stayed glued to the table, while his left hand was now free to roam behind her back. Sansa realized that doing it this way shielded her from seeing the action, so she moved to Arya’s other side for a front row seat. Arya was sticking her bottom straight up in the air, wiggling it around as much as her little hips could manage, the straining fabric of her bodysuit pulling tightly on her sex, right next Jon’s cheek.

He gave her ass a soft little kiss on one cheek before he reared a hand back. “Just ten, okay?”

“Please no, I’m sorry Jon-”--

 **SMACK!**

Sansa gasped.

“Fuuuu….” Arya groaned.

“One,” Jon rumbled. 

**SMACK!**

Sansa moaned.

“Owowowowow…”

“Two.” 

**SMACK!**

Sansa was cupping her breast now, squeezing.

“Fucking shit, shit fucking…”

“Three.“

“Fuck you, you asshole…” Arya interrupted the pattern, her fingers and arms flexing as she tried pushing up again only for Jon to change his grip on Arya’s short hair and then thump her cheek right back down on the table. Now Sansa could look into Arya's eyes. There was no fear there.

“Call me a name again, and it will be twenty smacks. I mean it.” Jon’s tone softened then. “Now say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Arya purred.

“Sir.”

“I’m not calling you sir, you arrogant shit head.”

“So that’s twenty more.”

“Do it you fucking baby-dicked asshole.” Arya was laughing now.

“So fifty it is then.”

“You’ll need at least fifty if you want me to actually feel anyth- agGGGGHH!!!”

Jon’s arm was pumping in a vicious fury then, spanking Arya’s ass in a bout of cruelty that looked simultaneously violent, powerful, and amazingly erotic. After every smack Arya’s little butt cheeks would flutter and singe with a white handprint that would disappear in a sea of pinker and pinker skin. Jon’s arm muscles strained and shook as he dominated little Arya, her legs kicking and hips wiggling the whole time. 

After every hit, Arya would swear or shout something, but her protests got progressively weaker. Her frantic “escape attempts” looked pathetically fruitless under Jon’s enormous force of will. If anything, all her movements just made sure that Jon hit every part of her bottom. Not a bit of her ass wasn’t going unpunished. Jon was going to break Arya’s will.

Soon the spanking became so rapid, so intense, that for a moment the coffee table shifted across the floor. Jon paused at that, sheepishly checking that nothing had dislodged or broken. Spilled coffee was running like blood under Arya’s belly, making the table look like the scene of a brutal murder, Arya’s beautiful corpse tossed away like a puppet with its strings cut. Her face was dazed, her eyes almost crossed, and her hair was matted to her forehead from the sweat while other strands stuck to her cheek from drool.

“You call that a spanking pussy?” Arya taunted. Sansa’s stomach dropped in fear and exultation. Jon sneered.

Those were Arya’s last words before the screaming began. Just screaming and nothing else. It went on for four minutes, Sansa had been eyeing the clock. Jon somehow never slowed, never drained. If anything, he went even harder than before, based purely on the volume of Arya’s voice. She was hoarse toward the end, tears running down her cheeks, pooling together with her drool.

Sansa had to wrap her arms around her legs and sit on her hands, otherwise she would start rubbing herself right here in front of them.

Eventually, blessedly, Jon was finished. His arm looked leaden and heavy, and Arya was finally silent, maybe even unconscious. Her legs no longer supported her ass so Jon let her body tip over off the table and crumple into a shivering heap, the only signs of life Arya's heavy breathing. Arya reached both her arms between her legs to rub the skin on her ass, shuddering in pain before she smiled, another tear falling down her cheek. She looked almost drunk.

"You okay? You didn't say the safe word so I assumed..."

"Yeah, you did great," Arya sighed. "Just the right amount of pressure. Thanks for holding back near the end. I know that's hard for you."

Sansa moaned at that but didn't think either of them heard her.

Jon nodded before collapsed himself, sitting on the floor next to the table, panting like he'd just run a marathon. Beads of sweat were running down his neck and chest. He looked like a man who had done a job well. He started reach into his shorts and touch himself before he seemed to remember that Sansa was sitting three feet away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, stopping his motions.

“Don’t be,” Arya answered, thinking Jon was speaking to her.

Arya admirably found the strength to stand up. Her hair was all bunched up to one side where Jon had taken hold of her, and her ass was still an alarming red color, but Sansa could also see it. The sun had started to come in from outside, so it was shining against the beads of wetness that were running down Arya’s thighs. The rivulets of fluid almost reached her knees.

“Gods, I haven’t cum like that since you spanked me the first time. My 17th birthday, remember?”

“I remember,” Jon grunted, his elbows on his knees as he rested his forehead on his forearms. “You got drunk with those Bravos and kept saying that 17 was the age of consent in Essos, so what was the difference if we just did it now. The only way I could get you to stop begging me was by spanking you.”

“And I’ve been chasing that high ever since,” Arya giggled.

“Gods, you two are so weird,” Sansa cut in, clearing the heavy desire in her throat. “I mean, I like a nice, brisk spanking to start the day as much as the next red-blooded girl, but that was way overboard.”

Jon and Arya looked at her, as if they couldn’t believe she hadn’t left the room already.

“Brisk spanking?” Jon chuckled.

Arya giggled too but then hissed as she rubbed her bottom some more. Then she pulled her hand away to find it wet. Like too wet. She glanced down at the coffee table and gasped in surprise.

“Fuck Jon, look at this mess!” Arya’s tone had shifted from pleasantly lethargic to annoyed once she saw the coffee stains all up and down the front of her bodysuit, dripping down her thighs and mixing in with the stains of her arousal. “I really like this outfit. It’s the only sexy underwear I’ve ever considered buying and you got it all covered in coffee! You know I hate coffee smell!”

“I’m sorry Arya.” Jon began to sit up. “Why don’t you toss it into the wash and take a shower-”

“No,” Arya held a finger to Jon’s lips, keeping him from standing and then drawing his eyes to her thighs. 

“You have to lick it all off. It’s only fair.”

“What? Arya, you’re getting greedy,” Jon frowned. “I’m not gonna-”

“Jon.” Sansa placed a hand on his shoulder, turning his face to hers as she got to her knees and sat back on her heels. For the first time, Jon’s eyes did that guy thing where they yo-yoed down to her chest in her nice, brand-new push-up bra before going back up to her eyes again. Apparently Jon had noticed, he was just being polite before.

“I know Arya had to be punished, that was fine.” Sansa gave her sister a look. “But you got coffee all over her adorable little outfit. It’s only fair that you be punished now too. You chose spanking for Arya. She chose licking for you.”

They stared at Sansa for the longest time but Jon snapped out of it first.

He gripped Arya by the ass, causing Arya to hiss again, and yanked her off her feet. Arya made a similar "oof" to Sansa when he palmed the back of her thighs and wrapped her legs around his back. This time when Jon lowered Arya to the table, he laid her down carefully while supporting her spine, his other hand open above her chest to keep her balanced. He was gentle and supportive. Loving. Arya looked somehow more scared of this than the spanking.

When he pulled back and unlaced Arya’s legs from his hips, he yanked her toward him by the ankles, sliding her back along the table like fingers through silk. Arya’s pelvis was right on Jon’s chest like that. 

Jon had grabbed himself a little early morning snack it seemed.

He leaned forward and took his first lick right out of the hole over Arya’s bellybutton, making a loud, perverse slurping noise there. Sansa thought of body shots and almost wanted to grab some chocolate sauce or something, but she was too focused on the show. When Arya sat up and tried to say something, Jon lifted his hands up under her knees and placed them on his shoulders, forcing Arya to lie back. Arya’s pelvis was lifting slightly off the table as Jon straightened his back, her lower body weight now completely supported by his shoulders. Arya’s lip was trembling and her hands were shaking.

"Jon..." she mewled softly.

“Stay very… very… still…” he whispered from between Arya’s legs before dipping down.

“Oh- okay.” 

Arya shuddered, tipping her head back so hard that she bowed her spine, her eyes quickly looking for anything to focus on but Jon’s head between her thighs, his fingers snaking under her suit and gripping her ass so hard that her asscheeks were being forced apart by the tension.

He started by flattening his tongue where Arya’s leg joined her hip, washing over a tan line so much that Arya seemed more tickled than turned on by it at first. Then he lifted the elastic that held the suit around Arya’s left leg and snaked his tongue under there. There was a delightful sound every time he lifted the fabric up, fluttered his tongue around, then let it snap back down onto Arya’s skin, causing her to hiss. Then he got the right leg. Then he repeated the whole thing to be safe. 

Jon eventually gripped Arya behind the knee again, folding one leg into her chest so he could run his tongue right on Arya's still steamy cheeks, nuzzling the spot there. He trailed wet, open mouthed-kisses up and down her thigh, until his beard was inches away from Arya’s dripping center. All Jon would have to do was move that sliver of darkening grey fabric aside and he would be able to ram his tongue into Arya’s slit like she so clearly wanted. Or maybe he could just softly lick her perineum, that’s how Sansa liked it. The fabric was getting so wet, he might be able to just tear the bottom out like he had done to Sansa’s sundress earlier.

Instead Jon moved up, licking the fabric under Arya’s stomach and sucking on the coffee spots. It started to become somewhat tame from there though, as Jon was no longer licking Arya’s skin but the fabric of her suit. Arya squirmed whenever he snuck his fingers under the fabric to lift it up, but that was it. She started running her hands through Jon’s hair to egg him on, pushing his face back to her center but Jon wouldn’t move. 

He did only as promised. He licked up as much of the coffee as he possibly could and didn’t let his tongue get anywhere near Arya’s increasingly sodden opening.

Sansa shared Arya’s disappointment when he stood and declared himself finished.

"Fuck, that was so much more intense than I imagined..." Arya slurred. "You didn't even go down on me really. Are you really done?"

“The punishment is over,” Jon nodded.

“It’s not over at all.” Sansa said, moving closer to Jon while Arya was still gasping on the coffee table. “Arya’s only come the once-”

“-and I was really close to a second.” Arya announced. “Or maybe, I don’t know. It was so much teasing… so much ‘not-touching’… I feel like I came through my skin or something.”

“Fine then, you’ve given her two and you’ve not had one yourself…” Sansa brushed her hand over Jon’s visibly throbbing hardness.

She wanted to taste it. 

“Sansa, I-I-”

A knock came at the door. “Hey it’s Val! I just got off my shift! You're not all hungover are ya?”

They all froze and stared at each other. Arya was still lying on the coffee table, her legs spread out in the same lewd position that Jon had left them, though now she was leaning on one elbow to glance at Jon. Jon was staring at the door, one hand around Sansa’s shoulder while the other was on her hip.

Sansa’s hand was still on Jon’s underwear. It felt warm and pleasantly… heavy. 

She snatched it away.

“We should stop,” Jon said.

“Right,” Sansa nodded. “But like… why again?” She genuinely couldn’t remember.

“This is how it goes,” Arya explained, standing up on shaky knees. “Jon is all charged up, and now Val’s gonna take care of him.”

“But I-I thought...” Sansa wasn’t sure what she was going to say next.

“Arya, Val doesn't come over as much for exactly that reason,” Jon joined in the conversation. “She said she doesn’t want Sansa to overhear her and me going at it.”

“Shit, is that why I haven’t heard you two yet?” Arya asked. “I’ve really, really wanted to touch myself to that. I haven’t gotten to hear Val like the others. I bet she cries after orgasms. Am I right Jon?”

Jon shook his head. “Arya…”

Arya frowned. “Jon, it's okay. Sansa likes it too. Right Sansa?”

Jon looked back at her and Sansa thought about Jon. Jon Snow. Robb’s best friend from childhood, Arya’s older brother, a part of her family… Sansa’s family. Jon was like a brother to her, she had thought. Except looking at him now, seeing his tousled and sweaty hair, the growing frown of concern on his face, the hot building tension running through his powerful, sculpted body… Sansa knew she could never look at a brother the way she looked at Jon.

So the choice was simple.

“Sansa?” 

She placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder for balance and gripped the side of her panties with two fingers, slithering out of them with careful practice, never breaking eye contact with Jon. She had a little trouble getting them completely off at one point, when she realized that they were sticking to her outer lips, the moisture there having become thick and sticky. Her panties were a tangled, damp mixture of fabric and fluids when she managed to step out of them. They were still hooked on Sansa’s toe for a few seconds until finally they snapped with a dainty flourish into her hand.

“Here.” 

She made sure to squeeze Jon’s fingers over the lacey cotton so he would feel the wetness there. Her arousal. Her desire.

“If Val starts worrying about me hearing you two… just stuff these in her mouth and shut her up, okay?”

She scurried away with Arya into their bedroom, feeling Jon’s eyes on her ass the whole time. 

It was only a few minutes later that they heard the crash in Jon’s bedroom. Heard the door slam. The moans, the bumps, and then Jon just… ripping into Val.

Sansa’s fingers were growing slick and slimy after ten minutes of listening. Val’s moans had started to become screams, like Arya’s moans had become screams when she was being spanked. Jon sounded even more frenzied. Sansa knew he had orgasmed at least once at that point. She’d heard Val shout something about how she wanted his come all over her face, and Sansa shuddered when she’d heard the loud guttural cry from Jon that followed. So why was he sounding more and more… starved?

That insatiable beast in Jon was why it had to be this way. This was the only choice, really. Either let Jon have his way with Val, forcing Sansa to listen against her will… or Jon would have taken her instead.

And Sansa would have tried to fight him off… the way Arya had tried.

Sansa was coming down from her second self-induced orgasm when she noticed Arya pulling a large, oaken chest out from under her bed.

Val screamed again. This time the sound was different and it made Sansa’s stomach clench so hard that she was almost dizzy after. Sansa understood why the sound turned her on so much a second later.

Val’s voice was muffled, choking… like she was being gagged by something.

“Want me to show you my vibrator collection?” Arya chirped up.

Stupid Sexy Jon Snow did this to her, and just like a man, he had left Sansa to take care of the problem herself.

“Fuck yes.”


	5. Chapter 5 - Daenerys and Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has some fun at the pool and meets a really cool girl. Jon likes her too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incapable of writing short updates anymore.
> 
> Also, the swimsuit that I describe Daenerys wearing is supposed to be an homage to this: http://www.ntsang.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/daenerys.jpg
> 
> I fear I didn't do a good job describing it, so just imagine Dany wearing a modern au swimsuit version of that costume.

Two months went by, and less and less Sansa found herself remembering King’s Landing. The seasons were so distinct on the East Coast, so disruptive to everyday life, that you couldn’t help but notice as time slipped away. Mother would say that every change of the season was a chance to look back on your mistakes, reflect, and try to do better in the future.

The weather in San Francisco however, never changed. Sometimes it was “perfect beach weather” and other times it was “too chilly for the beach weather.” Yet Sansa had never gone to see the sand or dip her toes in the surf. Arya was always ranting about how dumb and dirty the beach was and Jon had even admitted that he wasn’t crazy about the sand.

A swimming pool on the other hand…

Arya and Gendry were playing chicken with Jon and Gilly, though Sansa noticed that Gilly was a little too anxious to wrestle or splash in earnest, so the game consisted mostly of her and Gendry dominating while Jon was splashed in the face a lot. At one point Jon lost his footing, pitching both him and Gilly into the water, and Arya started howling in victory.

“Fear the wild wolf!” Arya shouted about half a dozen times before Gendry lifted her off his shoulders and tossed her away with a flick of his arm.

Everyone chuckled and cheered, Gendry sketching an awkward bow which only made Sansa laugh more.

She and Sam were sitting in folding chairs around the edge of the pool, Sansa soaking up as much sun as she could in her new halter-top bikini while Sam was shaded under a huge umbrella. Though Sam and Sansa hadn’t spoken to each other that much, she decided that she liked the man. He was self-conscious about his weight but was otherwise attentive and helpful and kind. He was going to be a vet one day, even though he was afraid of blood, because he just loved all animals so much. It was easy to see why Gilly was so besotted with him. Sansa thought they were truly the most adorable couple she had ever known, fictional or otherwise.

Sam was wearing a swimsuit but was set on not getting in the water, wearing a Hawaiian print shirt that looked noticeably average next to Arianne. The olive-skinned socialite was wearing a bright yellow bikini that was cut into three strips around her chest to highlight her sizeable breasts, expensive strappy sandals on her feet, and a lacey, golden shawl that she had perfectly wrapped around her hips and forearms at all times. She wasn’t keen on the idea of swimming either, but Sansa suspected her reasons had more to do with the eye shadow and makeup she was wearing.

Still, Sansa didn’t judge. Arianne had rapidly eclipsed all of Jon’s other callers in Sansa’s eyes. Though Jon tended to attract the same kind of girl; tall, beautiful, independent, beautiful, sexually adventurous, and of course beautiful, Arianne made all of them look like suburban hens in comparison. 

Arianne was older than the rest of them, in her early 30s, and lived a truly jealousy-inducing life. She was the official language translator for some very important Volantene diplomats in Westeros. Because of that she got to meet important and interesting people almost every day and was quite rich to an almost unseemly degree, not even counting her family inheritance. 

She was only ever in San Francisco for a few months at a time, when she wasn’t jet-setting to the most beautiful and exotic places in the world, and over the past month, she had worked hard to win Sansa over, quite successfully.

And she was the one who had suggested that they come to her father’s country club, the Water Gardens, for a fun day of swimming. Arya and Sansa had been arguing over what to do for the weekend, the weather saying it was perfect beach time. 

Arianne had popped up from giving Jon some truly spectacular head (judging from his moans) to say that she knew of a pool that they could all use.

“My father takes great care of it. I go all the time when I’m in the city,” Arianne explained as she continued to slide her hand up and down Jon’s shaft in a slow, teasing motion. He was trying to say something but Arianne had already blindfolded, gagged, and tied him to one of the kitchen chairs, even before Sansa and Arya had come home and caught them. “And they also don’t card very often…”

Arya perked up at that. “Oh, oh, day drinking? I never get to day drink! I’m in!”

Sansa was mildly miffed that the beach was once again denied to her but those feelings were quickly outshined by the idea of swimming in a Country Club pool. That was a luxury that the Starks had lost pretty much the day after father died.

“Alright, sounds good to me. I’m getting excited actually!” Sansa cheered, bouncing on her knees a bit on the couch. “What do you think Jon? Maybe we can invite Sam and Gilly as well?”

Jon turned to Sansa’s voice and nodded before he groaned again, Arianne taking his cock back into her mouth. She was sitting on the floor between his feet, slowly sucking and licking, making all sorts of purposely lewd noises. Arya would sometimes tease Jon as she walked by from the living room to the kitchen for a snack, leaning over and licking one of his nipples or teasing him with whispered words, but otherwise she ignored the couple. Sansa too.

That sort of thing had become normal once Arianne came back into town. Clearly Jon’s libido, while so uncontrollable that he usually casually dated at least 3 or 4 women at a time, was no match for Arianne’s voracious appetite. Not only had she crashed at the apartment almost every day for two weeks, but Sansa later found out that Arianne did this kind of thing with other single guys like Jon all over the country. She also had a very serious boyfriend named Daemon who was somehow even more handsome and sex-crazed than Jon.

Sansa was guessing about that last part though, since she’d never truly spoken to Daemon. The one time she met him, Sansa was screaming at Jon, scolding him for carrying on with a woman who had a boyfriend after she saw Arianne come out of the bathroom wearing one of Jon’s dress shirts. Sansa went on a tear, thinking of all the times that Joffrey had cheated on her and accusing both Arianne and Jon of being just like him.

That was the moment Daemon came out of Jon’s room, stunning and god-like in his nudity, blushing all over. Sansa noticed how much Arianne was limping then.

Threesome Arianne indeed.

Other than that slight hiccup though, she and Arianne had become friends in truth. She knew almost as much about fashion as Sansa, but Arianne was also well-read on poetry, history, philosophy, and about ten different languages. She knew how to drink any man under the table, took no shits from any would-be assholes, yet was gentler than a dove with her loved ones.

She also helped Sansa understand Jon better.

Apparently when Jon first met Arianne, he’d had some experience with girls but was still the closed-off, awkward, lacking in confidence idiot that Sansa had known in high school. He “knew his way around” but still had much to learn, as Arianne put it. For three months she and Jon had explored every fantasy and vice that the other could think of, even trying other girls together. Eventually Jon became even better at picking up women than Arianne, which she laughed about a lot. Sansa remembered how her eyes bugged out when she realized Arianne was bisexual.

“Oh sweetling, girls are the best,” Arianne had once lectured Sansa over a night of fancy wines at the Quill and Tankard Bistro. “Why would I limit myself to men? Yes, they have the cocks, and a good cock is like a good red meat hamburger, no substitutes will do the trick. But a girl’s tongue… hmm, girls are the only ones who really know how to eat another girl right.”

“Jon has never had any complaints,” Sansa replied without thought, and started blushing terribly when Arianne gave her a knowing, side-long look.

“Don’t get me wrong, sometimes you strike gold with guys like Jon, guys who treat it like art not sport, but no man can replace the feeling of a wicked girl’s tongue moving in all the right spots.”

Sansa nodded. “I suppose so. It’s not unlike the difference between a typist and someone who has taken a typing class, earned versus learned experience.”

Arianne perked up at that. “Yes, exactly! Exactly!” She cheered for Sansa a bit more before her next question. “So tell me Sansa, have Jon and Arya slept together yet?”

Sansa knew Arianne was trying to startle her, throw her off with such a blunt question. Sansa didn’t take the bait. She wasn’t stupid. Of course Arianne would know about Arya and Jon’s little “games.” Jon had developed his appetites under Arianne’s tutelage, in Sansa’s eyes at least.

“They aren’t…” Sansa started carefully, then pivoting the conversation away from Jon. “Arya has actually started dating a guy, so I think she’s worried that sex with Jon would be considered cheating. I don’t think she and her boyfriend have slept together, but then, it’s Arya so who knows?”

“Is it that one older boy?” Arianne asked. “The big fellow?”

“Yes, Gendry.”

Becoming friends with Arianne was great, but the most exciting thing that had happened since Sansa’s birthday was getting to witness the slowly growing puppy love between Gendry and her sister.

Apparently after the party Gendry either changed his mind about Arya or Arya had talked to Gendry, but whatever happened their relationship was different. They still spent the same amount of time together, still yelled at each other, still acted like they hated one another at times, but every once in a while, Sansa would catch Gendry holding Arya’s hand. Arya would give Gendry a peck on the cheek when she thought no one was looking. The cutest moment had been when Sansa caught them in the apartment hallway, just staring at one another, not saying a word. They both had uncharacteristic smiles on that melted Sansa’s heart.

It all came to a head when Arya’s 18th birthday rolled around. She’d had a party at one of her friend’s house, Jon and Sansa were forbidden from coming, but later that night Gendry came over with Arya and announced that they were going to watch some movies. Jon and Sansa had joined, more for gossip reasons than responsible ones, and watched as Arya laid her head on Gendry’s shoulder while he put his arm around her, never moving an inch through three different Slasher flicks.

Eventually around 3 in the morning, Arya announced she was going to bed. Gendry stood, clearly about to head to the front door, when Arya took his hand and walked him to their room. Jon and Sansa were too stunned to protest. Sansa’s bedroom apparently occupied for the night, Jon said he would crash on the couch while Sansa took his bed. Sansa almost suggested they share a bed, as they had done a couple of times since the party (though it never became quite that sexual again) until she remembered she had a boyfriend now.

“Hey babe, Virgin Daiquiri, as ordered.”

Sansa looked away from the pool to see a sculpted set of washboard abs that you just wanted to run a finger down. Up those scintillating abdominals were two sizeable pecs, broad shoulders, and that warm secret-soft armpit area where every girl wanted to snuggle her head that every tall guy had. 

His face though was the real prize. Soft, sandy-blonde hair with bright, beautiful blue eyes and a stunning, easy-going smile… Sansa couldn’t help but swoon a little bit every time she saw that smile.

“Thank you honey,” Sansa said with a little shimmy in her voice. She sipped at the drink and then immediately blanched. “Harry Honey, I think this is yours. It has rum in it.”

“Whoops, my bad!” Harry laughed as he switched their drinks. Yes, this one tasted much better, Sansa thought.

“Much better,” Sansa cooed. Harry planted a soft peck on her lips and sat on the sun chair next to her. She liked the way he laid back in it, one arm behind his head while the other held his drink, just letting all that golden skin soak up the sun. Sansa licked her lips at the sight of him.

Harry was in Sansa’s Geology class, a class that she was taking purely as a blow-off science credit, and he managed to make the professor’s droning lectures somewhat entertaining with his flirting. Harry was handsome and charming, but more than that he knew how to have fun. Sansa had forgotten at some point how to have fun! Jon and Arya were sexual monsters, but they tended to enjoy hiking in nature and otherwise staying in. Sansa missed tearing up a dance floor at a nightclub or mooning over someone at a fancy restaurant, and Harry was always up for more amusement.

They had yet to have sex, but Sansa was eager. Harry was on the Basketball team and Sansa had seen him playing a couple of times, and he really was an impressive athlete. Harry constantly had cheerleaders and college football groupies throwing themselves at him, yet he barely gave any of them a glance, let alone the reverent awe he always reserved for Sansa. _”For me.”_

“Those girls, they’re just shiny pennies,” Harry had said one night, when Sansa felt confident enough in their relationship to speak her fears. “But you Sansa Stark… 

“You’re the goddamn sun.”

Sansa still thought about that as she watched Harry chug down his drink before setting the glass aside, waving a waiter over to take it. She imagined kissing him, running her fingers through his hair as she rode him… she wanted it. She wanted it bad. She felt herself hesitating though and knew it had to do with Joffrey, with Petyr.

When Harry first asked her out, she’d said no because of Myranda, but after she and Myranda stopped talking, Sansa felt nothing was standing in her way anymore. She’d asked Harry out, surprising them both, and every step of the way she had pushed their relationship further. She was the one who asked him out on a second date. She even showed him the weirwood garden on the roof that Jon had made her. He had agreed how special it was.

Yet she couldn’t get herself to sleep with him.

At first Sansa felt bad about it, like she was a tease or something. She wondered if maybe she had tried jumping into a relationship with someone before she was ready and worried that Harry would eventually get bored. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jon or Arya or even mother that had made her feel better. It was Arianne.

“Look, I’m easy,” Arianne had shouted at Sansa when they sat at a table in a loud, booming nightclub together, a table of guys snickering when they head her. “For me, if the guy’s handsome enough to keep me interested, charming enough to keep me engaged, and humble enough to be second fiddle to Daemon, then I’ll give anyone a try.”

“I wish I could be more like that,” Sansa sighed/shouted as she took a sip of the Shirley Temple the bartender had made for her free of charge.

“No, no, my point is that we’re different.” Arianne had polished off her drink and placed the glass down on the table before gripping Sansa by the shoulders. “Sansa, you go at your own speed, okay? Sex isn’t supposed to be an obligation or pressured, it’s supposed to be about fun! You are a fucking beautiful winter flower in full summer bloom. If a guy isn’t willing to wait for you? That guy is a classless bore and it’s his loss.”

Sansa was almost in tears as they hugged.

“My goodness, doesn’t Jon ever tire? Silly man,” Arianne laughed, bringing Sansa back to the present.

She looked and saw that Jon and Arya were the only ones in the pool now, Gendry having gotten out at some point and disappeared while Gilly was toweling off her hair. Sam immediately moved his towel off the chair next to him so Gilly could sit, before he handed her a third towel and a glass of iced tea that he had ordered for her earlier without being told. Adorable.

Jon and Arya meanwhile were wrestling and laughing in the pool, splashing around and trying to dunk each other’s heads like they were 5 year-olds. Arianne was laughing, she knew all about Jon and Arya’s weird sex games so that was fine, but Sansa worried for a moment what Gendry would say if he came back and saw them. And as much as Arianne might understand, Sansa felt annoyed for her sake that Jon wasn’t paying more attention to her, as her kind-of-sort-of-date to the club.

“This place is beautiful,” Sansa said, drawing Arianne’s attention, hoping she could make up for Jon and Arya’s behavior. “Thank you again so much for inviting us.”

Sam and Gilly nodded, while Harry said something about the place being “swanky as hell” but only after Sansa gave him a light nudge to the ribs.

“Oh thank you everyone, really, but I was glad to do it.” Arianne was wearing sunglasses, but Sansa imagined she winked. “Besides, the club can be a great place to pick up fresh victims, right Sansa?”

Sansa giggled despite herself at the little inside joke. One night when she and Arianne had gone to an art gallery opening happening in the basement of an old steel mill (Arianne was tapped into all sorts of cool things in the city like that) Sansa had had a few too many glasses of champagne and blurted out some thoughts she had about Jon. Arianne’s favorite, that caused her to laugh so loudly that everyone turned to look at them, was when Sansa described the way she imagined Jon “hunting his victims.”

“Oh Sansa, Jon’s too prime to have to go looking,” Arianne spoke as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “All the girls come to him.”

“But like, why?” Sansa had giggles around her frown. “He’s handsome, sure, but so serious. He always seems to be rumbling at people. Hrm. Hrm. Hrm.”

Arianne laughed even more at Sansa’s impression. “You really want to know Jon’s secret?”

 _”If it helps me stop thinking about him all the time, then yes,”_ Sansa thought, but she just nodded.

“It’s simple.” Arianne paused for obvious effect. “He’s the devil.”

Sansa would have reacted more demurely if she wasn’t drunk. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Sorry, I was just picking on your Maiden-Mother sensibilities. All I mean is that he makes the Devil’s Bargain.” Sansa nodded for her to continue. “He never asks a girl to sleep with him, you see. He never… tries, really. I mean he tries because he’s polite and he knows lots of girls like that, but he never puts himself out there. He never has an agenda. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t even flirt really, or at least he doesn’t do it well. He just… makes them an offer they can’t refuse.”

“Which is?” Sansa leaned forward.

Arianne smirked, but this time there was something less predatory and more… nostalgic.

“The chance to do everything and anything sexual you’ve ever secretly desired, ever dreamed about late at night, every shameful curiosity you’ve buried down deep for fear of your own self-judgement. He offers you the chance to get everything you’ve ever wanted in the bedroom, and he offers it with the knowledge that he’ll definitely make it good.” 

Sansa was silent as she waited for Arianne to continue.

“But that’s… that’s it? That’s why all these girls are so mad for him?”

“It’s not all girls Sansa,” Arianne frowned, though she still had a touch of teasing in her voice. “Just the girls who have always wanted something, whether it be as complicated as rope play or as simple as finding your g-spot. Jon comes with a guarantee that most guys don’t, and the girls who can see that, who want that fantasy bad enough… I mean that’s like offering crack.”

“And what does he get in return?” Sansa asked, confusing Arianne for a moment. “He gives them this, whatever, ultimate fantasy, but what does he get in return?”

Arianne looked even more confused. “Um… he gets the chance to have sex with women who desperately want him to do all the terrible things they want done to them, that society would normally frown at. Nine times out of ten, that girl has had sex with a number of men and they’ve all fallen short, so there’s a loyal customer base as well.”

“And that’s what Jon wants?”

Arianne shrugged. “What man wouldn’t?”

Sansa nodded… yet she couldn’t help but wonder.

Sam and Gilly seemed fine with Arianne and Sansa’s little inside joke, they had about a million between them anyway, but Harry frowned. He very rarely frowned and whenever he did, Sansa would press her fingers to his brow and joke that he needed to relax. Sansa was about to reach up and do it again, but for the first time Harry lightly brushed her off.

“Wait, what do you mean victims? You mean you like, pick up dudes here?” He asked Arianne, sitting up in his seat at more attention than Sansa had ever seen him, other than those few of times when she gave him a taste between her legs.

Arianne seemed just as surprised by his sudden interest but seamlessly shifted back to her cool, non-affected manner. Sansa admired that ability.

“Of course, Harrold, men to be sure,” Arianne explained. “And some women too, when the fancy strikes me.”

Sansa could tell that Harry was dazzled by that, about to say something until his eyes flashed over to Sansa and he thought better of it. She wondered what he would have said. Suddenly Sansa didn’t like this conversation so much. She didn’t blame Arianne but… he’d never found the woman half as fascinating as Sansa. Until this moment.

“So like, if you were going to try and score-“ Harry paused. “If there was a woman here who you wanted to sleep with, who might you consider?”

Arianne chuckled but Sansa could tell it was fake. “I don’t know… how could I focus on anyone else when this delicate, willowy creature is in my eyeline, filling my every waking thought?”

Harry looked so lost then so Sansa tapped his ribs and gave him a look. _“Take the bait,”_ Sansa’s face said. _“Look at me and say how lucky you are to be here with me, you idiot,”_ Sansa thought at him. Harry seemed to get the hint but then he turned back to Arianne. 

“Right, right, of course not Sansa. Or Gilly,” Harry waved his hand in a general direction before continuing. “I mean like a stranger, like what about that one?”

Harry pointed at a skinny brunette in a black cotton two piece. Her hair was slicked back from having just swam in the lap pool and she had that thing where her hip bones stuck out really far that made Sansa equal parts worried for her health and also kind of shamefully jealous.

“That ‘one’?” Arianne had acid dripping from her tone but Harry couldn’t hear it. Neither could Sam for that matter. He was calmly reading his e-book while Gilly shared a look of worry with Sansa.

“Er, yeah, or how about that one?” Harry gestured to a blonde with a sunhat who was reading a book in her chair across the pool from them.

“I don’t know,” Arianne stated flatly, her patience at an end. “I generally like to get to know the person I’m sleeping with. Tends to help humanize them.”

Harry got the hint then. “Sorry, sorry, I’m being a huge asshole dude right now, aren’t I?” He stood up and took Arianne’s empty champagne flute as well as Gilly’s now finished iced tea. “Why don’t I try and save some face, if that’s possible, by refilling some of these fine ladies’ drinks?”

Arianne and Gilly looked to Sansa then. _”Arianne’s membership fee is paying for the drinks Harry,”_ Sansa quietly criticized, but she quickly managed to swallow that bit of nagging and smile.

“Thanks Honey, that’s sweet of you.” Sansa could see Arianne was still a bit turned off, so she decided to bring back the fun mood a bit. “But make sure you walk slowly. We want to get a good look at that blonde hunky one,” Sansa finished, slapping Harry right on one of those firm butt cheeks. The tension was broken when Arianne gave a lyrical sigh of entertainment and Gilly giggled.

“As you wish,” Harry smirked in that handsome, self-assured way of his, putting an extra comedic bounce in his step when he turned his back on them.

“Very good Sansa,” Arianne said. “With a boy that handsome, you need to keep him from getting too big a head. I swear, Daemon was a sexist, backwards-thinking mess before I met him. Now he eats out of the palm of my hand, and in return I occasionally let him think it’s his idea that we’re together.”

Sansa giggled but Gilly frowned. She didn’t say anything though. She just turned back to Sam and asked him about what he was reading and they went off into their little world of love and commitment. Sansa hated them as much as she envied them.

Gendry had returned at that point, and he and Arya were swimming alone while Jon went over to the lap pool. He was a surprisingly good swimmer, but Sansa figured that had to do with his police training or something.

When Jon got out after about four laps, he brushed his long black hair away from his face, smooth and sleek now from the water rather than its usual mess of curls. Water was dripping down his chest and a few streams here and there would linger between his hardened abs and down into the trail of curling hair that pointed down from his navel. Jon’s swimsuit looked a bit old, one of the pockets tearing slightly so you could see the inner netting, yet otherwise Jon looked like he had stepped out of a GQ catalog.

Sansa felt herself shiver again like she always did when she stared at Jon’s body.

Her mind flashed to the first time she had caught Jon with Arianne. They weren’t fucking on a table or 69’ing on the couch, like Sansa expected. In fact, Arianne made care to try and be discreet whenever possible, even after Sansa confessed that she sometimes liked hearing Jon with girls. It was Sansa’s fault, really. She’d entered the apartment to find it empty and just assumed she had the place to herself. So when she heard the load shout from Jon’s bedroom, she’d instinctively gone to investigate.

Arianne was facing away from Sansa, her hands on Jon’s headboard as she flowed and undulated her hips, pressing and rubbing her sex against Jon’s face. His arms were pinned above his head by Arianne’s thighs, and even though Sansa was sure Jon was strong enough to lift her whole body, he stayed restrained. Arianne was too focused on Jon’s mouth to notice that Sansa had entered.

Arya did though. She was working some sort of long tube over Jon’s dick (“It’s called a fleshlight!” she’d explained later) gross squishing and burping noises coming from it as she worked it up and down Jon’s shaft. Arya was fully clothed, wearing a pair of tan capris and a band t-shirt, but was clearly enjoying herself nonetheless. The shouts had been Jon’s voice.

“Whoa! He’s cumming!” Arya laughed like with a wild cackle. “Man, this thing must really work! That was like seven minutes, Jon never pops off that fast.”

“Keep going Arya,” Arianne panted. “If you go quickly, you might skip his refractory period and then he can go right into the next erection.”

“Wow, you know the coolest stuff,” Arya gushed before she turned some dial on the tube, Jon growling even louder somehow. Little more threatening too.

“Ooooh, we’ve made him mad,” Arianne sang before she noticed Sansa. “Oh good, darling, you’re here. Can you hand me those handcuffs over there? Jon’s being such a good boy, I want to show my appreciation by giving him a little treat later. Spoiler alert, the treat is- ugggghhhh, yes, right there…”

Sansa handed Arianne the fuzzy handcuffs and scurried away soon after. She made sure she kept her ear to the wall for the rest of the night though. Even though she and Jon had silently agreed that they wouldn’t have sex, Sansa couldn’t seem to get enough of hearing him have sex with other girls. Some nights, when Jon didn’t have any woman over, Arya would go into Jon’s room to tease him. The games usually ended with Arya scurrying back to their room after a while, all buzzed up with energy for the rest of the night. But every once in a while Jon would feel a little more selfish and Sansa would be awoken past midnight by Arya’s wild moans.

Those nights were Sansa’s favorite.

Sansa was still still staring at Jon as he prepared to jump back into the lap lane, when Harry returned with the refreshments. Sansa felt immediate guilt for leering at another guy when she had a really good one right in front of her. 

Jon was cut like a muscled Adonis, but Harry was more Sansa’s type, she thought. Handsome, easygoing, and big. Very big. Harry was taller than Jon and probably stronger, though that was more good genes than working out. Sansa had watched Harry do push-ups and he probably practiced for the basketball team, but otherwise Harry was more into video games and fantasy football. Really Harry was just blessed to be born with broad shoulders and long legs.

Which was fine. _”I have to stop comparing Harry to Jon,_ she said to herself for probably the thousandth time. _”It’s not healthy and it’s not good for anyone.”_

“Hey babe, you okay?”

Sansa perked up and put on her best smile. “Of course Honey.”

Perhaps it was out of guilt a little bit, but Sansa made sure to add extra passion into her kiss, gripping Harry by the neck and pressing her face above his, almost making him spill his Daiquiri before he caught himself. A second later Sansa almost jumped when she felt something cold wrap around her butt cheek, but then she realized it was just Harry’s hand, cold from having had to carry the drinks.

“Wow,” Harry said after the kiss was over, a dazed expression on his face. “Can I get you anything else maybe? A car, a house, my eternal soul?”

Sansa giggled. Arianne was smirking again, so that seemed safely neutral, and Gilly and Sam just smiled at each other with a knowing look, probably thinking back to their own courtship. The sun was out, Arya was having fun with her new boyfriend, and Jon was out of her mind and out of her worries. Everything was perfect.

“Oh gods!” Sam gasped.

Everyone turned to look at him and saw Sam pointing at the blonde that Harry had been eyeing earlier. She had put her book down and took off her floppy hat, and was now unwrapping the dark indigo beach cover-up she’d been wearing. It was held by two buttons over her chest, and she snapped them one, by one, and then opened her arms in an almost ballet-like flourish. Once it was open, the dress folded like a towel which the girl casually dropped to her chair.

Her beauty was humbling.

She was wearing an egg-shell blue bikini, somewhat basic except for the fact that it was strapless, but connected to the suit were two crossing straps of shimmering green fabric that was held over the girl’s cleavage by a large ring, the straps crossing over her back and then going around to the bottoms below her navel, a tasteful piercing in her bellybutton that held a small chain of even smaller bells. It was a glamorous suit that helped highlight the girl’s considerable breasts and flat stomach. 

As Sansa looked closer, even the bikini was more detailed than she had originally thought, a glittering material was interwoven with the light blue fabric of the suit, like dragon’s scales. It was in some ways gaudy Sansa thought, yet the girl’s goddess-like presence made it work somehow.

Her hair was somewhat short, longer than Arya’s neck length but shorter than Sansa’s hair. It looked unstyled, hanging down loosely, yet Sansa had to believe that there was product in it. There just had to be. It was a pale, stunning blonde that was almost white, giving the girl an almost pure, angelic presence. It looked like the kind of hair that was thick enough to run your fingers through yet also inexplicably ethereal, like no human hand could touch it. 

Her face was the most breathtaking part of her. Sansa realized that they weren’t the only ones staring. The moment she took off her sunglasses and shook out her hair from her hat, it seemed like everyone by the pool stopped to ogle the girl.

She sat back down on her chair and with a dainty point of her toe, crossed her legs and started applying sun tan lotion. This ordinary human activity knocked the fog away from Sansa’s mind a little and soon everyone else sort of woke up. Sam was still staring though.

“Do you recognize her Sam?” Gilly naively asked, Sansa thinking it was obvious why he was staring.

“That’s Daenerys Targaryen!” Sam peeped.

Harry jumped at that. “NO fucking way, are you serious dude?!”

Suddenly Harry was reaching for his phone and looking something up while Sansa continued to be confused. Arianne seemed to recognize the name, based on the way she stared wide-eyed at the girl. Sansa thought she recognized that last name at least, Targaryen, but she wasn’t sure why. Something about…

“By the Seven!” Sansa shouted, drawing far too many eyes, including Daenerys. “She’s the one, isn’t she? The last one of the royal family?”

“Yes,” Sam said with an almost irreverent shudder. Sansa realized now that he wasn’t getting turned on, he was nerding out. “The last of the Targaryens, the family that ruled over all of Westeros until the populist sentiment overthrew them and established the New Parliament. She’s a walking piece of genuine history. Of OUR history! After the rebellion, so many artifacts were lost across the Narrow Sea that historians can’t properly document… but they know it’s true and she’s a part of everything… the story of ice and-”

“Fucking hells!” Harry shouted, completely unaware of the hush that had passed over the group as Sam spoke. “I knew it! She’s that chick who sold a bunch of her family’s shit and now she’s like, one of the top 20 richest people in the world!”

“Top 50 really.”

Only Arianne didn’t jump. Daenerys Targaryen, the most famous woman in the world (apparently) was standing by Harry, looking over his shoulder at his phone. Or she was, until Harry dropped the device with a loud crack. Sam looked like he was trying to push the entirety of his body into his folding chair and Gilly looked like she was about to stand and bow before deciding to lower her head instead.

Sansa just gaped like a fish.

“I’ve actually already spent a majority of the money that I received from my family’s Asshai holdings, or ‘that bunch of shit’ as you more accurately put it,” Daenerys continued. Her smile was so charming that even Sansa felt a blush coming on. “The money I have left now is in trusts and stocks, so I’m not nearly as rich as people think. It’s all that make-believe money that the global markets like to trade in.”

Sansa was still speechless but Arianne must have been used to this kind of thing saying, “Well, once you’re truly filthy rich, it can be somewhat difficult to fall back into poverty.”

“True,” Daenerys nodded. Sansa noticed that her eyes did a quick scan over Arianne, fluttering for a moment on her breasts and lips. “It seems you all know my name already, but it’s only right I make a proper introduction. My name is Daenerys, but you can just call me Dany.”

“You’ve charmed us,” Arianne purred, reaching a hand out. Dany looked surprised but amused. “Arianne Martell. Are you a member here?”

“No, but men are always giving me free things. Visits like these included.”

She said it so plainly and without any ceremony that it took a moment for the words to register. It made sense of course. Dany looked like the kind of girl that men once fought wars over. She was short, about Arianne’s height, and she had some sort of chafed skin or injury around her thighs, but that was Sansa nitpicking. Up close now, Sansa could see that her breasts were actually smaller than she had originally thought.

Still… Sansa felt like a boy in comparison.

Dany shook hands with Sam and Gilly as well (Sam looking like he was going to pass out when their skin made contact) and then moved on to Harry. Harry puffed up his chest and gave his best, most roguish smile. Sansa was annoyed that he was clearly attracted to Dany and doing nothing to hide it, even when _his girlfriend_ was sitting right next to him… and yet part of her hoped that Dany asked Harry out or something, just so Sansa could tell her he was taken.

“I actually have a bit of a confession to make,” Dany said, looking more excited than embarrassed. “I came over specifically to talk to you-”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked (or more like growled), flexing his arms and making an impressive sight as he towered over Dany. Sansa realized that Dany was only a few inches taller than Arya. It was hard to see though. Dany seemed to carry this gravity around her that made everything else seem small.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked, pressing a finger under the girl's chin. 

Now Sansa was getting annoyed. She recognized the tone in his voice. At any other time, Harry’s voice would have made Sansa feel all tingly because she knew he was filling with desire for her. Sansa’s jealousy issues were talking a real pummeling today. Sansa prayed that her test would end soon and that Harry's ego would get the wind knocked out of it.

Dany seemed amused by them. “I’m sorry, you’re very… cute,” she settled on. “But actually… my confession is that I really sort of… already knew who you are. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to say something to you.”

Sansa was completely lost until she realized Dany was talking to her, not Harry. 

“Me?” Sansa wondered how dumb she sounded. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Dany blushed, and like everything else about her, she did it in a way that was equal parts erotic, alluring, innocent, and captivating.

“No, we’ve never met but… I follow you on Instagram and- and I just love all your posts!” Dany gushed, the elegant elven princess disappearing to be replaced by this regular fangirl. Sansa was reminded of Serenai then. The two could have been sisters… and Serenai would be considered the homely one.

“You do?” Sansa asked, a creeping fear suddenly rising in her belly.

“Yeah! You are Sansypants111, aren’t you?” Dany didn’t even wait for Sansa to finish nodding. “I really like all the outfits you’ve sewn and the make-up hints you post, and of course all of your selfies are on point, but I also just really like your style. Sometimes I check your history for inspiration whenever I have to go to a morning charity event and- I’m sorry, I’m rambling, I just wanted to come over and say hi.”

Sansa was trying to smile. “How did you find me though?”

Dany looked confused by the question but still managed to ooze charm with her answer. “A friend of mine, Missandei, maybe you know her? She’s ‘lostprincessofnaath’?”

That name actually did sound familiar. “Right, right, she’s commented on a few of my design pics. She always notices the details I try to put in my stitching. She sews?”

“As a past time yes. We try to do little craft projects together, for girl bonding. We’ve actually tried a couple of dress adjustments like you showed on your story…”

Sansa felt better the more they talked. She and Dany chattered for a few more minutes about different dresses she’d made, designs she’d tried, patterns and button styles, even some of the funny posts that Sansa had made when she wore leftover costumes from Oldtown University’s showing of Grease. Even though she knew she had followers that actually cared about her design ideas and followed her for pictures of beautiful clothing, Sansa was always more careful now.

After her birthday, Myranda was quick to hold Sansa to her promise of coming into the Photo Lab to take some pictures. Sansa thought it was going to be a simple process, like a school photo. She would sit in front of a neutral background while Myranda took a few shots in different lightings. Sansa brought a cute dress, and one or two non-dress options, and her makeup, but that was it.

She should have known better. Myranda had brought designer clothes and multiple cameras and even a professional makeup person. She wanted to do a whole professional shoot, like they did for magazines. Sansa almost backed out, until Myranda managed to pinch and cajole her with compliments. After a while, Sansa decided it was just easier to ride the hurricane.

In the end they’d taken probably a thousand photos in about a million different positions, outfits, backgrounds, and angles. Sansa was growing tired of smiling, and crying (they had tried a few shots where Sansa cried after she told Myranda she could do it on cue) and just generally trying to make herself look nice. It was tiring to be on all the time. It was growing dark when Sansa decided to call it a night.

But Myranda wanted one more shot. And Sansa trusted her.

Sansa had been in her cute little pink, lacey boy-shorts and nothing else, changing into her street clothes. Myranda did ask permission to take the picture, claiming that the way Sansa was standing, with her back to the camera and one arm up, made for the most beautiful sight of the evening. It felt strange being so exposed, but she let Myranda take one test picture and show it to her. 

It wasn’t pornographic by any means, but you could see Sansa’s entire spine and a little bit of the cleft of her bottom where her underwear had bunched up. The bottom of the boyshorts were riding up as well, showing a hint of cheek that made Sansa feel flustered. Even the side of her boob (the one she considered her good boob) was somewhat visible, a whisper promising something more.

It was a sexy photo. The kind that Sansa would only ever send to a boyfriend and no one else.

So a few weeks later, when Sansa was going to talk to Myranda about possibly going on a date Harry, she was taken completely off-guard by what happened. 

Arya had texted her a link asking, “Is this you?” and when Sansa clicked it, she immediately dropped all of her books right in the middle of the quad.

“Hot Coed of the Week” the banner read above the picture. The top trending article was about how to trick your girlfriend into a threesome. The comments below it were even grosser.

The only people who had copies of the photos were Sansa and Myranda. So when Myranda lied right to Sansa’s face about leaking it, Sansa didn’t see any reason to be honest with Myranda anymore. 

The next day she’d asked Harry out. They went on a romantic date to a local park near campus. He’d bought her an ice cream cone and told her about his parents, holding her hand and ceaselessly doting on her. By the end of the night, they had their first kiss at sunset under a willow tree. Picture perfect.

And Sansa forgot that she was ever friends with any lying backstabbers like Myranda Royce.

One unintended consequence of the whole thing though was that along with the picture, the website had a link to Sansa’s various social media. For weeks Sansa had to ignore her phone as it went off every five seconds, alerting her to the fact that she had a new follower. As if that that wasn’t annoying enough, some of those followers would even go through her history and find any picture where Sansa showed any skin; a day at the pool with friends, pre-gaming before a night out with the Psi-Chis, even one photo where Sansa was sure she was only 13 and was wearing tiny little shorts and no bra.

Guys were gross.

Arianne, wise as she was beautiful, gave Sansa the best advice on dealing with it that didn’t include some form of deleting her Instagram (as Jon, Arya, and even Harry had all very unhelpfully suggested).

“Just make it your own,” Arianne suggested. “It’s your account, so post whatever you want. After a while the perverts will leave and the people who like your stuff will stick around. No one can get mad at you if you just stay true to yourself Sansa.”

And so she did. Sansa posted far more frequently than she had in months, trying to drown out the requests for more salacious photos and instead always post things that she liked. Poems, color patterns, dogs she met on her morning runs with Jon. 

Sometimes she posted pictures of her hands holding a new sheet of fabric or a finished outfit on one of her sewing dummies, and along the way Sansa found it easier to take pride in her work. A few times she did post selfies, but they were always tasteful attempts at art rather than pornography. Arya had actually been an immense help with that, as she apparently ran all the social media for her band and had a good understanding of what kinds of pictures garnered more likes. Whenever Sansa was out of ideas, she just posted pictures of Jon or Harry when they did gross boy things, so she could shame them later.

After a month though, the followers kept coming, Dany apparently being one of them.

“Do you mind if we take a photo together?” Dany asked, shimmying the little bells hanging on her navel in excitement.  
   
“Babe, let me take it for you,” Harry answered before Sansa could, taking Dany’s phone and holding it up. “Put your arm around her babe. Maybe crouch a little? Cause of your height.”  
   
Sansa had told Harry half a hundred times that she felt uncomfortable taking a picture in her bikini ever since what Myranda did, but she felt too embarrassed to say anything in front of Dany now. She put her arm around the shorter girl and tried a sorority squat to bring them at eye-level, even as she felt like an awkward giant around this perfect tiny embodiment of western femininity. Dany surprised her though by putting both of her arms around Sansa’s neck, hugging her so close that their faces were inches apart when the phone gave off a few clicks. Sansa’s life was truly surreal in that moment.  
   
_”I’m taking a picture with a literal princess,”_ she thought. Dany smelled like berries and cream and her skin was warmer even than Jon’s.  
   
“That’s so great, thank you so much!” Dany sang as she took the phone from Harry. He mentioned something about a picture of the two of them, and suddenly Sansa had the phone next. She was sure Dany hadn’t planned on that, but she smiled pleasantly while Harry held her by the hip. His hand lingered there when Dany took the phone back from Sansa.  
   
He was letting go (fucking finally) when suddenly the silver-haired temptress gripped his bicep for a moment while she re-balanced herself by the edge of the pool, her attention focused on her phone. Sansa could see how pleased that made Harry, his hand slipping back around Dany’s waist and even tilting his body onto her shoulder, though that seemed to throw Dany’s balance off more than anything.  
   
“I uh- I hope it was a good one,” Harry tried to make his voice sound commanding but it ended up being needful. “I can- um, take a few more if you need me.”  
   
“No, no, these look great,” Dany said before she drew her eyes away from her phone and to Harry’s bicep. She gave it another playful squeeze before looking up into his cornflower blue eyes. Harry must have realized how close he was standing to Daenerys then and it was sort of amusing how flustered he became. Dany’s hand moved from his bicep to press two fingers to his chest, a feather-light push.  
   
“You’d best be careful when standing so close to a dragon,” Dany said with a strange, almost dangerous tension in her voice, even as her smile was as sweet as honey. “You might get burned.”  
   
“I can take a little heat,” Harry grunted, his voice all bass.  
   
Dany’s dangerous look instantly cracked and she started laughing. Harry’s smile melted away. Then he blushed like mad, Sansa had ever seen him so red. She felt pity for her boyfriend until she remembered how self-assured he had looked a moment earlier. Then she let herself laugh too.  
   
She and Dany shared their mean little joke but thankfully Harry just gave a sheepish chuckle and laughed along after a while. He moved back from Dany though, he understood that much. Once the girl had some breathing room again, she looked to Sansa.  
   
“This is going to sound sudden, but I don’t- I’ve only been in Westeros a few months and I haven’t made a lot of friends. That is to say, most of my friends are old men who work for my family’s company or volunteers from my charities- gah, I’m rambling again.” Before Dany continued, she took Sansa’s hands into her own.  
   
“I haven’t had the chance to make friends my own age, really. Would it be alright if I- if we had coffee sometime? I know we don’t know each other, not really, but I have a good sense about people. I feel like we could be close.”  
   
Now Sansa blushed. “I would like that.”  
   
“Oh good, that makes me so happy Sansa, truly.” Dany hugged Sansa then, her head fitting perfectly under Sansa’s neck.  
   
Arianne’s sunglasses were sliding down her nose as she stared. Gilly and Sam were both smiling, but Sam was vibrating a little. Harry looked like his head was going to explode at the sight of them hugging. Even Sansa blushed when she realized she could feel Dany’s breasts squishing against her belly. Her skin did feel quite lovely, Sansa thought.  
   
And Sansa found herself more and more excited by the idea of becoming friends with this strange woman. Dany reminded her a bit of Margaery; gorgeous and completely aware of how men worshipped her beauty, strong to the point of almost similar masculine arrogance, and yet sweet as a sundae despite all of that.  
   
Plus, Sansa knew Dany’s dirty secrets having read the tabloids all of last year. Sansa had followed the princess’s troubled, media-filtered relationship with the notorious captain of the Stormcrow crime family for weeks. When Daario Nahaaris finally broke it off with the lost Targaryen princess, and started sleeping with the pop singer Green Grace instead, reporters said the princess was devastated before she hit him with her car. With so much of her dirty laundry in the public eye, Sansa might have to worry about Dany being a dangerous sort of friend… but not a deceitful one.  
   
“Sansa! Thank gods, there you are!”  
   
Arya suddenly appeared next to Sansa’s hip, startling her and Dany both. Arya was still in her swimsuit, an eye-catching but tame navy-blue bandeau with matching bottoms. One string on the bottoms was a bungee cord instead of fabric, to create a lopsided but interesting color difference that Sansa fashion-approved. Arya’s hair was up in two tight pigtail buns and she was sporting some round frame sunglasses. Her toothy grin completed the picture of ‘teenage fun in the sun’ in Sansa’s mind. Dany looked charmed by Arya already.  
   
“Sansa, have you seen Jon around?” Arya asked as she darted her head back and forth.  
   
“No.” Sansa hoped Arya didn’t embarrass her. “Why would Jon be after you, Arya?”  
   
“I pushed him into the pool earlier when he was getting dressed, so clearly he wants his vengeance upon me,” Arya explained in a rapid clip before she noticed Daenerys. “Who’s this?”  
   
“Hi, I’m Dany, nice to meet you,” the silver-haired goddess said to Sansa’s fairly ordinary sister. Arya was indifferent as she shook Dany’s hand. “Sansa, is this your sister? She’s so, so adorable, gods, I’m jealous. You’re going to be quite the beauty one day Arya, I can tell.”  
   
“I agree,” Sansa smiled as she patted Arya’s head between her buns.  
   
“Hey, wait a fucking minute! You can’t treat me like a ch- AH NooOOo!!”  
   
Jon appeared behind Arya like a shadow, barely noticed and completely unheard until it was too late. One hand grabbed Arya’s bottom by her swimsuit, his fingers getting a good grip on the bungee strap, while the other hand was between her shoulder blades, balancing her weight. Jon lifted Arya bodily above his head, chanting some beastly cry like a wild animal, Arya kicking and flailing. Jon was just too strong though. He tossed her up into the air, the bungee cord snapping as Jon let her go. She went sailing in an arc, a gleeful scream emitting from Arya the whole way down.  
   
The splash that followed hit Sansa’s legs and Dany’s back, causing them both to cry out in surprise. While Sansa felt herself becoming livid at getting wet (Arianne wasn’t the only one wearing makeup today), Dany held her arms close to her chest in shock. The carefully composed look of her suit was ruined, one of the shimmery green straps knocked off her shoulder. Dany was smiling though. When she opened her eyes and looked at Jon, Sansa saw the exact moment it happened.  
   
The same thing that happened to every fucking woman that met Stupid Sexy Jon Snow.  
   
Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide. Her chest hitched, like she’d forgotten how to breathe for a second. Her tongue snaked out from between her teeth and ran over her top lip, just for a split-second, like she’d seen some delicious sweet treat. Her violet eyes, so clear and bright before, seemed almost unrecognizably dark as her pupils blew open to take in the details of Jon’s body.  
   
And Jon was in particularly good form today. Apparently when Arya had pushed him into the pool, Jon had been wearing a snug white cotton-T that was now sheer from the water. It clung to his every muscle. His victory cry now complete, Jon grabbed a corner of the shirt by his hip and pulled, wrapping the end in his hands like someone would do with a towel, wringing the water out so it splashed on the ground and over their feet with tepid, Jon-warmed drops. Sansa’s mind went to wolves and how they marked their territory for some reason.  
   
Jon was still in his swim suit, but Sansa hadn’t noticed it too much before when he was in the water. They were still old-looking, torn, but they were also tight without being obscene. More importantly they were low on Jon’s hips, showing all the muscles there and in his lower stomach. That deep, promising V drew the eye to the tight outline between his legs.  
   
Dany was already hypnotized, but Sansa literally heard the breathy gasp she emitted when Jon seemed to give up on the shirt and grip the bottom, pulling it over his head and showing off his triceps as he peeled away the clothing and exposed the clean carnal wonder of his chest. When the shirt was completely off and in Jon’s hand, he rolled it up some more before giving it a harsh flick, the wet snap causing Sansa and Dany to blush.  
   
“Sorry about that San,” Jon grinned in that innocent way he had with her and Arya only. “Didn’t mean to catch you in the crossfire.”  
   
“It’s alright Jon,” Sansa replied before clearing her throat. She realized that Harry was still standing next to her. How long had he been there?  
   
“This is Daenerys,” she latched onto for focus. “Daenerys, this is Jon, a… family friend.”  
   
Jon seemed to notice Dany for the first time.  
   
And for the first time, Sansa saw it happen to Jon. His pupils went wide and his posture straightened. He smiled in a way that was different from his usual sheepish, crooked grin. His eyes, that were usually so clear and compassionate, became dark and cloudy and dangerous. It was the same look Jon had before he spanked Arya on Sansa’s birthday.  
   
“Good to meet you,” Jon said after a moment. Daenerys took his hand.  
   
“Likewise,” Dany exhaled, her former charm returning in fits and bursts. “Jon. Yes, I recognize you from Sansa’s Instagram. I always thought you were her boyfriend.”  
   
“Nope, that’s me,” Harry chimed in, his tone innocent. It was somehow worse than if he’d acted jealous.  
   
Dany ignored him. “Family friend, huh? So that was your friend you just tossed like a sack?”  
   
Jon gave a heart-breaking smile. “More like a little sister.”  
   
“Little? So you admit it? You like picking on little girls?” Dany tilted her head at Jon like a snake, her smile feral and threatening. “Does it make you feel like a big man?”  
   
Sansa gaped at Dany’s tone but Jon just chuckled. After a while Dany laughed in return, though that predatory gleam was still in her eyes.  
   
“With Arya it’s more about giving her… discipline,” Jon’s voice was playful but Dany was unimpressed. “If you’re talking about, say, Sansa though? I’d never pick a fight with her.”  
   
“That’s because you know I don’t play fair,” Sansa chimed in, glad to be included. For a moment Jon turned his strange eager grin on her before he seemed to realize who he was flirting with.  
   
_”Just plain old Sansa.”_  
   
“Why is that?” Dany asked, ignorant of Sansa’s thoughts. “You think Sansa somehow weaker? What about me? I’ve been told I lack discipline.”  
   
“I don’t know you,” Jon rebutted, his attention focused back on Dany. “But as for Sansa, well, a smart man knows when to pick his battles, especially the losing ones. If I tried to discipline Sansa, she’d probably ring my bell.”  
   
Sansa felt a strange pride at those words but Dany was disappointed by Jon’s answer. “Pandering can be more insulting than condescension, Jon…?”  
   
“Snow.”  
   
“Jon Snow.” Dany hummed the name like it was a dirty word.  
   
“It’s not pandering. Sansa frightens me often.” He gave Sansa an enticing look that made her heart fill with butterflies until she realized that Jon was doing it for Dany’s benefit. “She’s all sweet on the outside but hardened and dangerous on the inside.” Jon turned his gaze back to Dany. “You strike me as the opposite.”  
   
“There’s nothing soft about me!” Dany exclaimed, the laugh that followed being equal parts flighty and manic. “You’re a fool for thinking otherwise. A word of advice Jon Snow. Only little girls are softened by sweet words. A real woman needs a man.” Dany sneered at Jon like he was a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe, daring to question her.  
   
Jon pulled the waistband of his swimsuit out and animatedly looked down at his own dick.  
   
“Last I checked, I am a real man.” Jon was treating this like a game and Dany was starting to turn red.  
   
“A boy pretending to be a man, such a Westerosi cliché,” Dany explained with a feigned yawn. “A real man acts as if victory is always a given. He doesn’t avoid confrontation through charm. He feeds on doubt and turns it into strength.”  
   
“Doubt gives me heartburn,” Jon japed.  
   
“A real man takes what’s his,” Dany continued, unmoved.  
   
“Even women?”  
   
“Especially women.”  
   
Jon’s smile became a frown then. “Sounds like the men in your life have something to prove then.”  
   
“And you don’t?”  
   
“To you? Why would I need to prove myself to you?” Jon’s tone was so strange and yet familiar to her that it took Sansa a moment to recognize what it was: pride.  
   
“Men are always trying to prove themselves to me,” Dany giggled, the bells on her bellybutton-piercing tinkling.  
   
“I don’t see why,” Jon retorted, causing Dany’s smile to wither. “You’re just another girl, with blood as red as mine, no matter how cute you might be.”  
   
“Cute?” Dany’s voice changed. This wasn’t the excited fangirl that Sansa had met a moment ago. Her teasing smile was replaced with a hard look.  
   
Just like that she was Daenerys Stormborn.  
   
“You think men weep and fall to their knees for me simply because I’m _cute_? Men lick my heels for a chance of _tasting_ my favor. You would do well to remember that when addressing me, Jon Snow.”  
   
“I won’t be licking anything of yours, if you keep acting like this little lady,” Jon paused before smiling again. “I’m sorry, that should be little princess. Is that better?”  
   
Jon was treating Daenerys and her strange posturing like a joke, which in some fucked up way made him seem even hotter in Sansa’s eyes. The more prideful and crazy Dany acted, the more Jon was unfazed. Sansa thought back to Arya’s spanking on the coffee table, how she’d kept egging Jon on even as he dominated her without breaking a sweat. Jon kept refusing to push back against Arya’s provocations.  
   
Until he did.

Did Daenerys know what she was getting into?  
   
“If your tongue touched any part of me, I would have it out,” Dany murmured, willful yet with less fire in her words.  
   
“If you desire my tongue on any part of you, you’ll have to ask first,” Jon replied without missing a beat. “Nicely, with a ‘pretty please’ and a ‘thank you sir’ after as well.”  
   
Dany’s imperious frown finally cracked and soon Sansa recognized the emotional, sweet girl from before who had loved her color schemes and button-sewing tutorials. The hard-staring woman who challenged Jon’s manhood was gone as quickly as she came.  
   
“Goodness, you are something, aren’t you?” Dany’s voice sparkled.  
   
She placed a hand over Jon’s chest then, shamelessly squeezing there. Jon looked unclear on what to do at these turn of events but otherwise not unpleased.  
   
Sansa heard a heavy swallow and thought at first that it came from Jon, but his eyes were level with Dany’s face below his, his features made of ice. The swallow had come from Harry. Sansa glanced over at him to see that he was just as hypnotized by what they were witnessing. She glanced down at the white and red striped board shorts he had worn to the pool. A large, strong column jutted out from his hips and tented the material.  
   
“You have a scar here, mystery man,” Dany sang, stepping closer to Jon and running a finger over Jon’s eye, the lid fluttering at the girl’s touch.

“Bird attacked me,” Jon shrugged. “A really big one.” Sansa knew the story. It really was that simple. He reached his hand up to Dany’s hair, softly lifting the back until the nape of her neck was showing. A circle tattoo was there, divided in two parts, one dark and one white. Jon pressed a finger there.

“Different kind of scar here.”  
   
For some reason this made Dany shiver. Sansa saw goose pimples run up and down the girl’s arms even as the hot California sun beat down on them. Without warning Dany pushed away from Jon, looking at him like he had hurt her or something. Jon just looked sad.

“Dothraki funeral tradition, right?” Jon asked. “Usually for a khal.”

“One for my husband,” Dany nodded. “And one for my son.”  
   
They lingered in silence after that. Then Dany shook away her cloud, took Jon’s hand, and smiled at him.

A week ago, Arianne had invited her cousin Tyene over to the apartment for dinner, and then later explained that they would be staying the night in Jon’s room. Together. When Jon found out, his face became the exact shade of alarmed and aroused that it was in this moment as Daenerys merely looked at him.  
   
“Hey, come here.” Dany held Jon’s hand with both of her own, her soft, tiny fingers looking fragile in his bronzed, calloused grip. “It was nice to meet you Sansa. I’ll DM you when I post the picture.”  
   
Sansa blankly nodded as she watched Daenerys skip away, dragging Jon along behind her. They made it to the other side of the pool when Dany pressed her other hand to Jon’s stomach, stroking down his abs before she fell to her knees, her head at level with his groin. Sansa wasn’t the only one who gasped. Arya was hanging onto the side of the pool in the water, her hair slicked back away from her face, her jaw hanging at the sight of them.  
   
The girl stood a moment later, causing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief. She was holding a small golden-colored purse in her hand and pulled a red marker out. It was a bright, crimson red. She began writing her phone number on the inside of Jon’s forearm.  
   
“The hell? Why didn’t she just put her number in Jon’s phone?” Harry asked, more to himself than anyone.

“Cause she’s fucking extra Harry, all Targaryens are. Read a book,” Arya japed unkindly.  
   
When Dany finished writing, she said something that none of them could hear but Jon nodded. They sat together then, on opposite sides of her chair, hip to hip. Dany pointed at some marks on her arms, Jon running his fingers along her skin as Dany whispered in his ear. At one point Dany lifted up one of the straps on her bikini bottom and placed Jon’s hand under it.  
   
_”They met ten minutes ago,”_ Sansa was baffled.

“Oh okay,” Arya sighed in relief. “She’s just showing him her tattoos. I thought for a second Jon was going to go knuckle deep in that girl in front of everyone.”  
   
“Fucking A man, Jon gets all the luck,” Harry groused with an unappealing whine in his voice. “Is there any hot chick that dude doesn’t immediately bone? Like, leave some for the rest of us asshole.”  
   
Sansa was starting to see red. Thankfully Arya spoke before she could.  
   
“Harry’s right, that was totally weird. Usually when Jon hits on girls, they spend hours talking and talking and talking, blah blah blah about so many feelings, before Jon even thinks about maybe making the first move.” Arya chuckled as she crawled out of the pool. “I can’t believe Jon just went for it like that, it’s so unlike him. That silver-haired chick must be something.”  
   
“Her name is Daenerys,” Sansa spoke in a dull tone. “She’s a fan of my pictures on Instagram.”  
   
“She kind of reminds me of this junior from my school who keeps bugging me to get Jon on Snapchat.”  
   
A storm cloud was moving in over Sansa’s head. She looked away from Jon and Dany to notice Gendry. Everyone else; Sam, Gilly, Arianne, Harry, Arya, even Sansa herself, was staring at Jon and Dany.  
   
All except Gendry. As Arya picked at the wedgie at bottom of her suit, giving her wet buttcheeks a little pat without even realizing it, Gendry’s eyes roamed over her body. The most beautiful woman in the world was being felt up by the most seductive man Sansa had ever met, and Gendry only had eyes for his girlfriend’s butt, as he should. Arya had confided in Sansa that she sometimes felt a little self-conscious, like she was too skinny on top and too fat below the waist, but she had grown to like her body because Gendry said he liked it. And he clearly, really liked it.  
   
That’s what a boyfriend was supposed to do though. He wasn’t supposed to lie that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen or anything. He was just supposed to want you. To be filled with desire for you.  
   
Dany was leaning her breasts against Jon’s back as she looked down at one of the stab wounds on his shoulder. Harry looked like he was drooling. When Jon picked Dany up and set her on his lap, the silver-haired minx laughing musically after Jon goosed her bottom, Sansa decided she had had enough.  
   
She took Harry by the hand. “Honey, I want to go home.”  
   
“Now?” Harry looked miffed but then sensed his girlfriend’s distress. “Oh sure, of course babe, whatever you want.”  
   
“You’re leaving already?” Arianne asked, suspicion on her face. For once Sansa didn’t care. She just couldn’t be here anymore. “I thought we were all going to do lunch after this? My treat.”  
   
“Some other time,” Sansa said. She put on her cover-up and her strappy sandals, Harry already wearing his shirt and sandals. “Bye everyone!”  
   
A general chorus of voices went up. Arya was silent because she was still distracted by Jon, as usual. Sansa dared a glance. Jon and Dany were doing that thing that people did after recovering from a moment of passion; the smiling, the laughing, the comfortable interrupting. Sansa had to look away when she saw Jon flick at the bells hanging off Dany’s navel, causing her to giggle and lightheartedly shove at his head.  
   
Sansa was tired of seeing happy couples today, she decided.  
   
“So, want me to take you home?” Harry asked once they got in his car. Sansa shook her head before reaching across her seat and placing her hand over Harry’s suit. He felt warm and he was still half-hard in her palm. She liked the way he gasped too because Sansa was just as surprised by her behavior.  
   
“I was hoping to spend the day inside with you,” Sansa whispered. “Make me feel good baby…”  
   
Sansa put on her best doe-eyed look, not that it mattered. Harry was already fantasizing about it. She could see that behind his eyes at least. Maybe a few more whispers like that and Dany would be a flimsy memory in her boyfriend’s mind.  
   
She’d followed Harry to his bed (thankfully he had his own bedroom despite having three roommates) until the back of his knees hit the mattress. When he fell back, Sansa ordered him to remove his shirt while she worked the strings of his swimsuit. They had him naked in good order and Sansa took his manhood into her hand, playing around with the soft flesh there. Harry didn’t have any hair, having shaved it all off for water polo, and Sansa thought it made him look even bigger yet somehow wrong. She imagined tight, dark curls at the base instead. She took his softness into her mouth to try and get him started.  
   
It wasn’t long before he was completely hard, Sansa now having trouble fitting him in her mouth. He was large, visibly larger than Jon in fact. She wasn’t quite wet enough yet for such a thick intrusion but she didn’t feel like directing Harry on how to properly eat her out right now so she went forward. Sansa ditched her swimsuit, unwrapped her breasts (Harry gave a shiver-inducing moan at the sight of her) and hoped her saliva would be enough when she lowered herself down.  
   
It was rough and jerky at first. She couldn’t get him all the way inside and every time Harry tried to help, he just made it worse. He attacked her clit with his fingers way too much and her nipples not enough. When she finally felt her thighs touch his, his hardness snugly inside, she’d given a gasp of thanks that the ordeal was over. Harry enjoyed a cocky little laugh at her expense.  
   
She tried to be patient though. Sansa understood how much pride Harry drew from his size, and she didn’t want to shake that confidence. She endured his groans about how tight she was, and in truth she liked the way his cock jumped when she joked about being unable to fit him, but part of her wished that Harry would have comforted her. Maybe actually help her get more wet, rather than grinning like a fool with his hands behind his head as she struggled alone.  
   
But he made up for it a little. Sansa tried to ride him like she thought was the right way, but she’d never done it before so she couldn’t seem to make it feel good. Eventually Harry put his hands around Sansa’s bottom and helped lift her on every bounce, getting them both to a good, rousing rhythm. She was thankful for his experience then. When Sansa was close she started to rub her clit. Harry seemed to sense what she needed so he leaned forward and gripped her by the face and neck to kiss her. Feeling his tongue snake into her mouth was just what Sansa required to push herself over the edge.  
   
Having gotten hers (as Arianne called it), Sansa was fine with Harry taking the lead from there. He flipped Sansa onto her back and started thrusting, fast and hard, enjoying the new wetness from Sansa’s recent orgasm. He was grinding his pelvis against hers, scraping her clit in just the right way on every other thrust, that soon Sansa actually felt another orgasm building. She realized that she’d never had more than one orgasm during sex before and the idea of achieving such a feat got Sansa excited. She reached down to rub at her clit again, pressing her other hand against Harry’s broad, sweaty chest so he would get the hint to move back a bit. She wanted to run her fingers down those delicious abs of his when she came.  
   
He must have misread her intentions though because he did everything wrong. The long strokes with the harsh banging of their hips, jolting her clit, was the perfect position. Rather than keep that up though, Harry grabbed Sansa by the wrists, pinning her arms to his soft leather headboard and yanking her chest up, tilting her pelvis and making his thrusts shallower. It was impressive that he could pin her so well, and any other time the rough manhandling might have sent a thrill up Sansa’s spine… but not now. Not when she was so close!  
   
“Oh babe, it’s happening!” Harry whispered, painfully tightening his grip on Sansa’s wrists as his hips became a blur of motion.  
   
Only half of Harry’s length was even thrusting inside her anymore. Sansa would have argued that this defeated the appeal of that extra-large cock that Harry was so fond of but she repressed those thoughts and let him finish. She had to admit, seeing his handsome features become all tense, his nose scrunched up and his mouth agape in a pathetic wheeze, did send a little quiver into Sansa’s chest. It just wasn’t enough to get her to a place where she could finish with him.  
   
“Fucking hells… that was amazing,” Harry moaned from between her breasts after he’d pulled out and removed the condom.  
   
Sansa had insisted he wear protection even though she was on the pill. When she watched Harry come apart, his voice a low groan of surrender, she had wondered for a moment what that might feel like inside her but that moment of curiosity was fleeting.  
   
“Was it good for you baby?” Harry asked, his tone oh-so loving. Sansa thought it was kind of pathetic that he had to ask.  
   
“Hmm-mmm,” Sansa moaned, knowing this was the perfect response to please Harry. It was the same moan she always gave him after he’d gone down on her for a while with little result.  
   
“You were wild, I can’t believe you used your mouth,” Harry chuckled. “I almost popped off right then, you were so good.”  
   
_”Really? I don’t think I knew what I was doing,”_ She wondered if Harry knew that. Maybe he had no idea what a good blowjob was supposed to feel like either.  
   
“Thanks,” Sansa said, unsure of what else to say.  
   
Afterwards, when Harry was asleep, his arm wrapped around her and his nose in her hair, Sansa was… pleased. She honestly couldn’t remember what she’d been so nervous about. For months, she’d wondered how she would handle being intimate with a man again, but now that it was over, the whole thing had been a bit… underwhelming.  
   
But Harry was satisfied. He spooned her well, massaging her breasts in soft, measured movements. His warm chest felt amazing on her back. Maybe he couldn’t fuck like a sex machine, but Harry’s big bulky body felt unbelievable against her skin sometimes. Harry started snoring then. Sansa rolled over and ran her fingers carefully through his perfect, sandy blonde hair so as not to wake him. His chin was so strong and nicely shaped, and his neck was perfect for kissing.  
   
She loved touching him more than anything. She wished she loved being touched by him half as much.  
   
Eventually she fell asleep. 


	6. Chapter 6 - Beach Day! (Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finally gets to the beach and it's perfect! For about ten minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. I had to extend the story length again. Maybe the story will go on forever. Oh well. Enjoy! 
> 
> This chapter is more plot and fluff than smut, but smut will return, I promise.

Seagulls were giving lazy calls for fish. Hundreds of broken seashells were littered across a sandbar, uncovered for now in the low tide. In the far distance were storm clouds threatening rain yet they were sluggish and far away. The air had a heavy, salty taste to it and yet unlike the city humidity, it refreshed a person’s will to live rather than weakened it.

There were one or two people around, flying kites and enjoying swims, living that best summer life even now in winter. Otherwise the beach was empty, returned to a natural state of stillness that made every problem feel microscopic. It was like this place was where the world would go when it grew tired of pressing troubles down onto people’s lives. Waves washed away footprints, the sand becoming smooth and untouched once more, the strands becoming long strips of unending rebirth.

It was perfect.

Sansa felt herself sink down as she wiggled her pink-painted toes, a frothing upsurge passing over her ankles and sending healthy chills up and down her bare legs. Out of habit she pulled on the bottom of her high-belted, crème-white sundress as a draft brushed up against her bottom. There were green and blue songbirds printed all over the fabric, giving Sansa’s look a little color. Her extravagant new sandal wedges that made her legs look ridiculously well-sculpted were hanging from Sansa’s finger, completing the mental photo that she had waited months and months to finally achieve.

One of her shoulder straps slipped for a moment, snapping Sansa out of her daze as she adjusted it for the dozenth time. The dress was beautiful and made Sansa feel lighter than air, but it was very short and so tight that she couldn’t wear a bra, so it was normal for the straps to sometimes slip across her skin. Even though Harry had reassured her dozens of times that no one was getting any free peeks off this outfit, Sansa sometimes wondered if he only said that so he could get his own free peeks. She couldn’t fault him for that though. Sansa was peeking on him constantly as well.

Three months later and Sansa was close to thinking there might be something real between her and Harry Hardyng. Real and genuine. It wasn’t perfect by any means, not even close, but it was good. Harry had only become sweeter and more doting as time went on, and he’d even introduced Sansa to his Aunt Anya (not really his aunt, but she had raised Harry his whole life) during Thanksgiving. There had been a brief period around Halloween (“Fuck that Halloween Party,” Sansa repeated) where she wondered if they could make it long term, but those fears felt more and more distant by the day.

And the sex… 

Well, Harry was improving _”Kind of.”_

“You have to get wet, it’s the only way.”

Sansa looked behind her at the sound of Val’s voice. The older woman was standing away from the shore in her camo shorts and white tank top, uncaring of the way that the black bra underneath was completely visible. She was rolling her eyes as Jon stood calve deep in the water, holding his hand out to Jeyne in a grasping, insistent way. 

It was clear that Jeyne desperately wanted to step in but she hadn’t dressed properly for the occasion at all, wearing a beautiful, flowing maxi-dress that Sansa never would have been able to pull off. Jeyne had also gathered her hair up into a bun on top of her head, showing off the blue arrowhead earrings that her boyfriend Theon (Theon Fucking Greyjoy of all people!) had bought her for Christmas, as well as the silver half-moon necklace that Arya had bought her for the holidays as well (though with Gendry’s money).

Sansa and Jeyne Poole had been friends all through elementary, middle, and high school, and there were times, especially in high school, when people liked to joke that Jeyne was Sansa’s little sidekick. In retrospect they were somewhat on the mark. Jeyne had always been by Sansa’s side, often dated guys just because they were friends with Joffrey, joined clubs and sports because Sansa was in them, and even sometimes picked on Arya because Sansa did too, the memory of such things hitting Sansa right in the guiltiest part of her heart.

In some ways Jeyne had been Sansa’s true sister growing up, Arya being considered “one of the boys” with Robb and Jon’s friends, and then later Bran. After college they had lost touch, Sansa barely thinking of silly, heart-eyed Jeyne Poole. 

Now they could barely hold a conversation for longer than twenty minutes. Worse (or better?), Arya had apparently reconnected with the girl on a whim, having invited Jeyne to fly out from Connecticut last year while Sansa was still in school at King’s Landing. Since then the two had become thick as thieves, skyping and emailing each other regularly about some TV show with hot werewolves that they both liked. Apparently, Arya had learned how to charm even Sansa’s old friends.

For a while it felt a bit like her sister had stolen something from her, but only at first. When Sansa had shared her feelings of sort-of-abandonment with Harry, the day before Jeyne was set to fly out from Connecticut, Harry had made Sansa realize how silly she was being. He’d suggested icing them out until they apologize, at first, offering a free week-long trip to Pentos as a possible distraction, courtesy of Ms. Waynwood. Sansa pictured the two of them on black sand beaches, sipping expensive flower drinks with little umbrellas. She could wear a scandalous bikini and Harry even less, then they could peep on each other all they wanted.

But when the fantasy wore off, Sansa explained that she was not comfortable with Harry spending so much money on her (at least this early in their relationship). She also worried that such advice might risk the growing closeness between her and Arya. Sansa ultimately decided that she was being too prideful. She could learn to be fine with Arya having Jeyne as a friend.

Jon too.

Jeyne was in a happy relationship now, so Jon didn’t push and Jeyne never seemed tempted, yet Sansa could see how they still had that closeness that only came from being intimate. After a few more minutes of teasing debate back and forth about whether Jeyne would be willing to get her dress wet, Jon tempting her with promises of fish and coral, he finally gave up and walked back to the shore.

Only to sweep Jeyne into a bridal carry, Sansa’s childhood playmate intuitively wrapping her wrists around Jon’s neck and hugging herself to his chest as her legs gave a floppy kick. She was gasping but also giggling. Jon walked back out into the water, even deeper now, and started nodding at things for her to notice. Jeyne was alarmed and sort of hysterical at first, but once it was clear that there was no risk of Jon dropping her, she freely gazed in wonder. At one point even leaning back in Jon’s arms until she was almost upside down, just so she could touch the glass-like surface.

Jon was wearing the dark, navy blue button-down shirt that Sansa had given him, unbuttoned all the way right now to show off that chest everyone loved so much, and attractive white board shorts. After seeing his closet filled with nothing but black jeans, slacks, and workout shorts for months (and his one pair of salmon “party shorts” as Arya called them) she knew she had to expand Jon’s wardrobe. The white shorts, a couple of striped ones as well, the button downs, stylish tees, a watch, and new socks had made Jon a somehow greater, more irresistible force of nature, though Sansa’s motives were only for the appeasement of the fashion gods.

For the fashion gods had rewarded her handsomely as of late.

Sansa’s Instagram continued to blow up, having reached 20,000 followers by Halloween, and more and more people were starting to notice. When an article was written about it (along with four other “Must-Follow Cali Girls”) in the online format of Monthly Maiden magazine. Sansa’s numbers more than doubled to 50,000 after that. Even Arya admitted that it was becoming a real thing when mother mentioned it on their weekly phone call. Catelyn Stark didn’t have an Instagram, but apparently one of her assistants who did had shown Sansa’s pictures to her.

Then when it seemed like Sansa couldn’t get any luckier, a high-end clothing store called Lady Shella’s contacted her about starting an advertising deal with them. There were a lot of little details and specifics about SEO strategies that Sansa had had to learn, but essentially, they wanted her to promote their clothes to her followers. Even though Sansa had put a moratorium on selfies at the time, part of the deal was that they would need her to wear the clothes and model them in pictures. They even encouraged her to retouch them as she saw fit, so as long as she made clear that any alterations were made by her and her alone. The money they offered was fine, enough that Sansa didn’t have to work at the gym anymore, but the real prize was the clothing.

Because these were real deal designer clothes, made of expensive fabrics and expert craftsmanship, all now regularly delivered to Sansa’s doorstep, free of charge. She could keep and wear them forever. As in, until the day she died. 

Suddenly all Sansa ever posted was selfies. (As an added bonus, they also sent Sansa men’s clothes, also for free, so she got a lot of Christmas shopping done ahead of schedule.)

She was so absurdly proud of herself that she wanted to boast about it to anyone and everyone who would listen, even Harry’s family at Thanksgiving. Thankfully Harry deflated her head a bit before she made a fool of herself. His aunt, Anya Waynwood, was a millionaire philanthropist who regularly helped human trafficking victims with her dozens of organizations and charities. Her husband had been the Attorney General before he died. Her sons were doctors and lawyers and politicians and… well, Harry. 

Sansa’s Instagram was just pictures of her wearing denim jackets and high-waisted slacks that Arya sometimes helped her with for internet clicks.

A shriek flipped Sansa’s mind back to the present. Jon was pretending to drop Jeyne but then immediately stabilizing again, repeating his “hilarious” joke a few more times for good measure. Jeyne slapped his bare chest with wet hands, but there was nothing serious behind it. Jon eventually walked her back to the shore, giving Jeyne a playful swat on the butt once she was back to standing. Jeyne returned the favor to Jon’s butt, much to his scandalized blush. 

Val rolled her eyes at the whole thing. She was always doing that it seemed like. Sansa didn’t think it was jealousy, yet she couldn’t understand what else it could be. Val was one of those, “I don’t need a man,” type women, yet she gave wise and balanced advice to Arya and Sansa about dating and sex whenever they asked. Jealous girls tended to always blame other girls for boys’ bad behavior, but Val was consistently quick to defend women first in all situations.

Except for Daenerys.

On the drive to the pier, Jon and Dany had been in the front seat of Jon’s car while Val, Arya, and Sansa sat in the back. It was an hour-long drive that started at 5 A.M., so Arya was getting a strategic cat nap in, her head lying on Sansa’s shoulder. A puddle of drool was developing on Sansa’s boob at one point, yet the sight was so precious that Sansa wouldn’t have moved for anything in the entire world.

She had been debating brushing some of Arya’s freshly dyed hair away from her face (a purple ombre on the edges now instead of blue) when Val gave a groan of disgust. Sansa glanced over in question and Val answered by nodding her chin at the front seat.

Jon’s driving was usually fine, but it was especially impressive in that moment as Dany was being quite the active distraction. The silver-haired goddess was leaning over in her seat, her head by Jon’s shoulder while her fingers played around his thigh. She was whispering something when she started to draw his fly down but Jon seemed unfazed. Only when her tongue snuck out to run against the shell of his ear did the car jerk for a second. Dany moved back from him then, a feline satisfaction on her face.

“Doesn’t she know how unsafe that is?” Val had groused.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been that way with a boy?” Sansa defended, Val blushing at the accusation. “She’s not giving him road head for goodness sake. She just wants to touch him.”

“She’s obsessed with him.”

“They’re in their honeymoon phase,” Sansa chided. “Let them enjoy it. Once they say I love you, and the relationship gets serious-”

Val scoffed then. “Sansa, if you think that silver-haired nymph is capable of having a serious, adult relationship, then you’re somehow even more naïve than you look.”

Sansa had steamed about that for the rest of the ride, though Val looked a little guilty about her words at least. When they all got to the pier, Gendry having driven there with Jeyne and Harry taking his own car from his apartment, the group had split in half. Sansa wanted to go to the beach, of course, but for some (Arya) the pier had rides and games and cute little tourist trap stores to be explored. After some deliberation, it was decided that Sansa, Harry, Dany, and Jeyne would go see the water, while Jon, Arya, Gendry, and Val would enjoy the pier attractions. That was fine with Sansa, but at the last minute Dany had other thoughts.

“I actually think I’m going to skip out on the beach today,” Dany announced, turning to Jon and running a finger over his shaven face (Dany said Jon was more handsome without the scruff, despite Sansa’s vehement protests). “Switch with me Jon?”

“Sure thing. I guess then I-” but before Jon could finish, Harry had inexplicably perked up.

“You know what? I’m not feeling the beach today either. Babe, want to switch with me?”

Sansa was confused for a moment then mortified. Arya rolled her eyes and Val full-on laughed, causing Harry to frown in worry. Dany looked a little bothered but Jon just smiled. He always smiled whenever Harry put his foot in his mouth like that. For a while Sansa had thought Jon was making fun of him, but she felt she knew better now. Jon just thought of Harry as a kid because he was Sansa’s age. 

Sansa remembered smiling over the shaky, frustrated sigh she had been fighting to repress. When Harry tried, he could be the sweetest, most romantic man in the world… but he tended to try less and less recently.

“Honey, I’m one of the ones going to the beach,” Sansa explained. Harry still looked confused though. “I… you don’t have to go to the beach if you don’t want, but you’ll need to switch with someone else.”

_”OR! Stop being an idiot and walk along the beach with me so we can watch the sunrise together like WE TALKED ABOUT!”_

Harry missed his chance. Whether it was out of guilt or some other inscrutable quality that Sansa couldn’t comprehend, Val wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave Harry the biggest “fuck-off” look that she could muster. Normally Sansa would have felt a little bad about that, but for a split second her frustration with Harry had overtaken her sense. She let herself enjoy the way Val’s cop-stare made Harry dither.

“I’ll trade with you Harrold. We’ll make it a girls’ day at the beach.”

“But Jon is joining us,” Sansa had chimed in.

“Yeah, well, Jon is practically a girl,” Val joked, though her tone wasn’t gentle. “At least when compared to this hunk of masculine body butter, right Harrold?”

Val’s smile was poisonous, and Sansa was about to warn Harry that she was mocking him, but he took the bait eagerly and smiled a cocky sneer before shouting, “DAMN Jon! Val is calling you out!! Yo Dany, you gonna defend your boy or what?” 

Harry was too busy chuckling and watching Dany’s mildly entertained eye-roll to notice the silence from everyone else. That memory of that moment would forever torment Sansa’s soul. 

Arya then loudly declared they would split up, eying Gendry and how visibly uncomfortable he was acting. Sansa could sympathize with that. She perfunctorily pecked Harry on the cheek before he could say anything to her, then grabbed Jeyne’s hand to drag her along. The last Sansa saw, Harry was putting his arm around Dany, still making jokes about Jon. Not a care in the world.

Sansa was kind of glad that Harry wasn’t here.

Val and Jeyne seemed engrossed in conversation about something, so Sansa hurried her steps to join Jon now. He had walked ahead of her at that point, his hands in his pockets as the breeze played with the ends of his open shirt. He’d laced his sneakers together, hanging them over one shoulder, his bare feet currently sinking into the sand like Sansa’s moments before. When he saw her approaching, Jon smiled, the sunlight behind his head cresting over the horizon to give him a golden silhouette. 

It was like a painting.

“Sorry your girlfriend ditched you,” Sansa started then regretted. If Dany had ditched Jon, then Harry most definitely ditched her as well. Thankfully Jon was too nice to draw the comparison.

“It’s my fault really,” Jon shrugged. “Yesterday I suggested Dany work on getting closer to Arya. She correctly saw this as an opportunity to do just that.”

Sansa was a little shocked. “Wow, throwing Dany into the wolf den. You think she’s ready for Arya?”

It was mostly a joke but Jon answered seriously. “It’s time. If Dany is sticking around, then she and Arya are going to have to start building a relationship with each other.”

Now Sansa was truly speechless. Jon and Dany had been together for less than six weeks and were still openly having sex with other people (sometimes together and sometimes not, but always with the other’s express permission first). Sansa had yet to see them on one date that wasn’t part of some weird roleplay scenario, and though Dany tended to drag Jon to a lot of fun parties, Sansa couldn’t imagine them spending a quiet night in. 

_”They’re hot for each other, but not warm to each other.”_

After Arianne left San Francisco once more for her job, Sansa had sort of assumed that Dany would take her place in the group as Jon’s more sex-crazed, sociable caller. More like Zei or Wylla and less Mya or Jeyne. This was the first time that Jon had ever spoken about a girl like this though. He sounded so serious, his voice bold and honest rather than its usual flowing, relaxed manner. Sansa couldn’t help but think of what Val said about Daenerys in the car. 

The suspicious woman in question was still talking to Jeyne, though now animatedly telling a story that seemed to have ensorcelled Sansa’s old friend. They didn’t even notice Jon and Sansa walking further and further away from them.

“How did you and Jeyne become lovers?” Sansa asked, childishly delighted at the mild shock that Jon had at the word.

Jon seemed like he wasn’t going to say anything at first. He glanced back at Jeyne two or three times as if worried about them overhearing. When he spoke again, Sansa focused on his eyes. She could see the the clarity and focus there. Sansa had forgotten how refreshing genuine honesty could taste.

“Last year she came and visited Arya for a week. I didn’t even see her for the first four days.” Jon shrugged. “I was busy with classes and Arya was trying to impress Jeyne with the city a bit, I think.” 

Jon took Sansa’s wrist into his hand then, just for a moment, to help her jump over a huge hole in the sand that she had missed due to the water. Her stomach flipped up into her heart as Jon lifted her a little into the hurdle, her feet landing in the wet sand with a naked slap. 

It felt a bit like dancing.

“But then?” Sansa asked, sliding Jon’s hand from her wrist and into her palm.

“But then…” Jon became a little red even as his expression remained unchanged. “One night, Arya was busy after school and Jeyne and I were alone in the apartment and I- I wasn’t…” Jon seemed to realize he was holding onto Sansa’s hand, letting it go so he could rub his neck. 

Sansa felt strange too, so she linked her fingers together behind her back to keep from fidgeting.

“I told her I’d always liked her. She was my favorite of your friends growing up, though admittedly that wasn’t saying much. She apologized for… something, I forget, and I mentioned how we weren’t kids anymore so it didn’t matter. That somehow became me telling her how pretty she was and… I-I don’t really know how it happened,” Jon chuckled to cover up the slight change in his voice.

“I have an idea,” Sansa smiled. 

Jon didn’t seem done telling the story though.

“Whenever you had a sleepover, Jeyne would always wake up early in the morning while the rest of your friends were still crashing until noon.” Sansa agreed that that sounded accurate. “And she would come up to the attic and find me there, alone usually, probably playing with some video game or something. She never… questioned who I was or why I was there. She just asked to join me and then we would play together. No one ever asked me questions like that, really. She’s… Jeyne was one of the only people who treated me like I was a real Stark.”

A gust brushed some strands of hair into Sansa’s eyes. She brushed it away and found herself feeling strangely drawn to Jon’s voice. Like they were finally alone and away from the world, free to finally start speaking openly in this in-between place of reality and unreal. Sansa was dragging her toes through the sand on each step, slowing their stride. She and Jon were eventually at a sedate, relaxed pace when she spoke.

“I think part of the reason I was such an emotional teenager was because of Jeyne. I always knew I had her in my corner,” Sansa started. “She would tell me I was right even if I was wrong. Tell me I was smart even when I was being dumb. Tell me I was beautiful when I felt anything but.”

Harry would have interjected then to say how beautiful she was, for now and forever, but Jon was too busy looking at Jeyne. At that moment she gave a long, gut-busting laugh at whatever Val had said.

“She’s just sweet,” Jon added. “Underneath all those layers of doubt and self-deprecation, she’s a good person. Strong too. So much so that it makes you… it makes you want to be a little stronger too.” Jon smiled that crooked smile then. “Kind of like someone else I know.”

Sansa worried for a moment that she might have heatstroke.

“Well, that’s fine, you two had a previous bond, I get that.” Sansa bounced in her steps a little, her nerves ratcheting up. “I doubt that all your stories about your callers are that sweet.”

Rather than act offended, Jon laughed at himself. Sansa knew that had to be Dany’s influence. Harry would have laughed at himself too, but only after he gave Sansa a look that showed how he really felt, so he could quietly moan about it to her later when they were alone. She didn’t know when or where Dany could have taken the time to temper Jon’s ego so much, but then like a light flipping on, she remembered the night that she and Harry never spoke of, at Harry’s insistence. 

Before Thanksgiving, when Arya was staying over at Gendry’s for the night, Harry had slept over at the apartment for the first time. At first it was sweet and nice, Harry spooning her and surprising her with kisses to the neck at random moments. But they both went still when they started to hear Jon and Dany’s moans through the wall. 

Even then Sansa noticed how the sounds were different from all the other times she’d heard Jon and Dany, but she couldn’t pinpoint the why. Instead of the extravagant shrieks and violent bangs, there was just a soft tapping of Jon’s headboard on the wall. Instead of the dirty wordplay that Dany always loudly pleaded at Jon with, Sansa heard quiet, encouraging whispers. The most startling part though was Jon. Normally prone to shouting and groaning, followed by uncivilized grunts that made Sansa’s body thrum with shameful desire, this night Jon was almost silent.

Harry described it as sounding tame, joking that poor Daenerys Targaryen needed a man who knew what he was doing. Sansa started to ask who Harry might suggest, when he interrupted to ask if she heard them going at it often. Sansa quietly nodded, and Harry took that to mean that Jon was often disappointing the women he brought home. Sansa was trying to correct him on that, feeling a need to Jon’s bedroom skills, when Harry abruptly rolled over, caressing her nipples through her satin sleep shirt. She forgot all about Jon and Dany then. 

When they were done, Sansa was gasping and giddy over the record breaking three orgasms that Harry had just given her. The dull ache below her legs sent shivers all over her chest, and Sansa could keep riding those shockwaves of pleasure by teasing her breasts with her hands. Harry was deliciously sweaty too, having worked himself into a real lather from being so filled with desire for her. 

For the first time they didn’t cuddle after sex but it was okay. Really. Sansa wanted to be left alone with her afterglow and Harry had apparently pushed himself too far, claiming that he was done for the rest of the night. He eventually fell asleep after he stopped panting and gasping but Sansa still felt energized. 

Only then did she notice that Jon and Dany were still going at it. Rather than blush at the implication though, Sansa’s curiosity made her listen closer.

At the time Sansa had imagined a dozen scenarios of gags, tape, or maybe just pillow play that could explain the muffled sounds, but the mystery had never been solved. Until now.

The sounds were different because Jon and Dany were making love.

“You’re right,” Jon sighed. “A lot of women that I’ve had sex with, especially before Arya moved in, was exactly what you’re thinking. Just the same story, over and over. Two needful forces drawing into each other trying to feel something other than emptiness, even if for just a moment.” 

It was a certainly a poetic way of describing a one-night stand, Sansa thought.

“That and some girls are just built a bit more… amorous than others…”

_”There it is._

“But some of them?” Jon added. “The ones that linger with me? The women who I still think about sometimes and will probably still reminisce about one day when I’m old and gray? Those stories, those people… they always have a way of sticking with me, changing me, if only a little. Because we know what we shared was different and surprised us. That it was deeper than just sex, if only for a brief flash.”

Sansa thought of the way Jon treated Mya, so softly and patiently. 

The way he treated Jeyne. Daenerys. 

The way he was treating Sansa now.

“Tell me some of those stories,” Sansa asked without thinking.

Jon gave a light chuckle. “Really? _You_ want to hear? You know I mean my- what do you and Arya call them? My ‘callers’?”

“I call them that, Arya just uses fuck buddies.” Sansa gagged at the word, causing Jon to laugh. “But yes, I’d really like to hear some of those stories. The ones that you think I’d like at least.”

“Well… I guess if you put it like that.” Jon raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Be warned, Arya says once I start talking about girls, I can be a bit hard to stop.”

This time Sansa took Jon’s hand and interlocked their fingers, to let him know that it wasn’t a mistake or some thoughtless kindness that she gave to just anyone. She wanted it. She wanted the feel of his rough calloused palm scratching the ridges of her skin and the heat of his long fingers between hers. The Claddagh ring on her fourth finger tapped softly against the chevron-stacked mid-ring on her middle finger as she squeezed.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

So they walked, Sansa listening as Jon told her about some of his more romantic memories. Stories about all the times he’d accidentally fallen a little more in love with a girl than he’d expected. How sometimes when their time ended, he’d wished it hadn’t, looking for any excuse to keep the girl around. How he sometimes regretted not being brave enough to say something, anything, that might have made her think their feelings were more than just a fluke.

When he was out of those stories, he just talked about the love he had for his friends, having particularly sweet things to say about Sam, Pyp, and Grenn. Then he talked about Robb and Father. Winterfell. He spent a particularly long time talking about the diner that was two blocks from their old high school, and Sansa could tell the place only had good memories for him. Jon even mentioned how he wanted to adopt a dog but didn’t think he had the time to take care of it, and so just for fun, he and Sansa spent twenty minutes discussing possible names for this hypothetical, future pet.

Then Jon talked about Ygritte.

Jeyne and Val interrupted around that time, explaining that they were tired of walking the beach. Val suggested they find the others but Sansa was still enjoying the salt air, and Jon surprisingly agreed. He declared that he had an idea before leaving, causing Val to smile in a knowing way, though she didn’t give Jeyne and Sansa any hints. 

Jon came back half an hour later with two rented bicycles, suggesting that they ride along the cement path that adjoined the beach and see the entire shoreline. Jeyne and Val were agreeable but Sansa could have kissed him for the idea.

Jeyne’s dress was long enough that she could balance on the back of Val’s seat, facing the opposite direction, without too much problem. That’s when Sansa realized her error. She looked down at her legs and pulled on the hem of her little sundress in worry. Especially on a bike, Sansa couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself. 

Jon tried solving that problem by instructing Sansa on how to properly sit on handlebars, and it worked well at first, but they had to stop after a few minutes when she felt the cotton of her underwear get stuck and then yank painfully after an unforgiving bump. 

They changed it up and decided Sansa would sit on the bike seat instead like Jeyne, though with her knees locked and legs folded to the side instead of the back. Sansa had to keep her knees up slightly, a tight position to stay in for too long, but then she also didn’t have to stand and pedal like Jon. At one point a bump made her lose her balance, and Sansa instinctively grabbed onto Jon’s center, her face pressed into his back. She felt the muscles there tighten and move along with Jon’s efforts and closed her eyes at the oddly comforting motions. Even when she stopped that madness, she kept her arms wrapped around his middle. Just to be safe.

Occasionally, right about when Sansa’s core would start to feel too tired from lifting her legs, Jon would stop and point at some animal or plant, offering for Sansa to hop off and investigate. Jeyne would usually join her while he and Val stayed with the bikes. 

The fourth time they did that, Sansa mis-stepped and the back of her dress yanked up on the bike seat, showing off her wedgie to everyone in a 5-mile radius, a rush of cool, humid hair embracing her skin. Sansa quickly fixed herself and turned on Jon, ready to scold him for looking. Instead she found him standing straight, his eyes pointed directly up in the air. That was better and yet somehow also worse. 

She and Jeyne were alone, crouched in front of a hermit crab that Jon had picked out of the sand, when Jeyne snickered.

“Hey, how did we end up on a double date?” She asked Sansa. “And why is my date a girl?”

They shared some titters like high school girls over that and it felt lovely. She glanced at Jon, leaning over his handlebars while Val lazily glided in circles around him. He tried to trip her up a couple of times, only for Val to weave away at the last second. When he did it a third time, she just let her front wheel hit his shin. Jon griped and hissed in pain while Val stopped and sort of slapped his back and hugged him at the same time.

“Maybe he was always like this?” Jeyne continued, seeing how Sansa was staring. “And maybe we were just too young to see it?”

“I’m only six months older than I was when I moved in, and I feel like I’m just seeing it,” Sansa countered.

Jeyne pursed her lips in thought. “Maybe he’s just more confident now. Because of Daenerys? That can make a difference.”

“Maybe…” Sansa agreed, feeling like maybe she could be as honest with Jeyne now as she was when they were children. “I guess I kind of assumed girls were just into him for his looks, but he can actually be really fun in a weird way. He’s patient and open and… and gentle, if you’re persistent enough to make him show it. I thought the only things Jon liked doing were sex, reading, and drinking coffee. But today… it’s like I’m seeing this whole other, romantic side to him.”

Jeyne raised an eyebrow. “Well, that makes sense…” She paused until Sansa nodded at her to continue. “He’s like, your brother after all.”

_”Riiiiiggggghhhht…”_

“What was he like before?” Sansa asked. “When you first got together, what attracted you?”

Jeyne looked puzzled by the question. “He was a handsome older guy.”

“So it’s just that? A fling.” Sansa bumped Jeyne with her shoulder a little. “Nothing more?”

Jeyne smiled a secret little smile. “Well… he was the first guy I ever felt safe with after it happened.”

“After what happened?”

“Sansa…” 

Jeyne looked embarrassed but also irritated at Sansa’s question. Like she didn’t want to talk about it but knew she would have to. She was struggling to get the words out and that’s when Sansa knew.

Sansa felt very much like she did when she discovered that Santa wasn’t real. That is to say, she felt so sad knowing that a perfect and innocent part of her life was revealed to be a lie that she had held onto for probably too long. Jeyne was part of Sansa’s Winterfell past, when life had been high school drama and being the princess of the Stark family. The innocent Before times. Jeyne was supposed to be safe by staying behind in that world.

Yet someone had hurt her too.

“Jeyne, I didn’t know…”

“It’s alright.” Jeyne flicked her finger at a mollusk to make it move.

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help you. If you tell me his name, I’ll have my mother-”

“Sansa stop,” Jeyne scolded. “Jon always made sure my trauma was about me, not about him!”

Sansa swallowed her words.

“I was always in control,” Jeyne added in a self-important tone. 

All Sansa could manage to say was, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jeyne said before smiling again. “Plus he’s just dripping with that sexy lumberjack appeal.”

“Lumberjack!” Sansa said in realization, grasping onto the change in conversation. “You’re totally right, he is that!”

“Yeah, only instead of sheep-skin jackets its tight t-shirts and tank tops,” Jeyne laughed. “Plus you probably get to see that body of his, like, all the time, right? Does he still insist on sleeping naked?”

“I-I got him to wear underwear at least,” Sansa admitted to Jeyne’s delight. “I figured there’s no point in making him wear a shirt unless we have company though. It really does get hot in the apartment. That’s not just an excuse that he tells girls.”

Jeyne only laughed. “You’re living quite the dream Sansa.”

“Ugh, yeah, a dirty dream.”

Even Sansa was done with the beach by then. Jon texted Arya to regroup at one of the nearby tacos stands so they could all get some breakfast burritos that Jon and Arya had been very excited about the whole drive over. For fuel, Val explained. They returned the bikes and stopped by the bathrooms first though. Unfortunately, the bathrooms were just outhouses.

Yick.

Sansa used some extra hand sanitizer when she was done, and regrouped with Val by the bike rental stand. Jon and Jeyne were still gone, so Sansa tried to make small talk with Val for as long as she could, but it was hard to talk about anything with Val that wasn’t Arya, drunk feminist theory musings, hunting, or Jon. And Sansa never felt that Val was trying very hard to connect with her.

“You and Harrold seem to be doing well.”

Sansa perked up. _”Maybe Val approves?”_

“We are actually.”

“I like him,” Val nodded. “He seems easy to control.”

“What does that mean?” Sansa sniped, her patience draining quickly.

“I just mean he’s very handsome and very dumb, which is good,” Val went on, doing nothing to make Sansa feel better and in fact only increasing her indignation. “When I was your age, I toyed around with all sorts of boys, boyfriends, even my friends’ boyfriends. It’s the only way to really get what you want.”

“Which is?” Sansa scoffed.

“Satisfaction.”

Sansa blamed the emotional whiplash for her outburst.

“Oh haha, yes, yes, men are just spongey bags of muscles and blood attached their dicks that we must seek to dominate, or whatever crazy nonsense you are trying to project onto me and Arya,” Sansa could have stopped there and it would have been fine, but it was like all her earlier frustration with Harry was flaring up right now. “The only problem? I can see how sad and lonely you really are Val, but Arya doesn’t, so all you’re doing is messing her all up and teaching her all the wrong lessons! Maybe you should consider that before you start coming into my life so filled with judgement!”

Val was silent for a long time. 

Then it went on even longer than that. Sansa eventually became convinced that she had dropped dead on the beach and that this eternal awkward standoff with Val was her divine punishment in some part of the seven hells. 

Only a crazy person would laugh in such a situation. So of course, Val started wildly laughing. Sansa shouldn’t have been surprised, but she even made insane laughter an attractive look.

When Val finally spoke, it was through chuckling tears. 

“Arya was right. You really don’t fight back. But one wrong punch, and you finish the fight.”

“You always do that!” Sansa hissed even as she felt a surge of strange pride go through her. “You try to turn the conversation into how close you and Arya are.” 

“Oh, do I do that?” Val hiccupped her laugh a bit. “Yeah, okay, I could see that. Bitch move on my part maybe. I do care very much for Arya though. She reminds me of my sister. I guess I let my pride overtake me at times.”

Now Sansa felt fabulously guilty, not just about her strange and humiliating outburst but also about how she had been thinking of Val for the past six months. Whatever her motives or feelings, Sansa had no reason to question that Val cared about Arya. She was trying. She was helping her police officer partner with the two young women that he had taken under his wing, when she didn’t have to. Sansa felt jealous of their relationship? So what? Jon had said it, Arya needed to come first, that’s what mattered.

“Besides, I went after your boyfriend. Wasn’t my place,” Val offered with a little nod of apology. “You’re smart and strong Sansa. Good or bad, small or big, venal or noble, your man won’t define you. Only you will do that.”

“I know that,” Sansa sighed. _”She doesn’t mean to be so condescending but geez.”_

“I can have it both ways you know,” Sansa argued. “I’m going to be great and my boy will be too.”

Val kept eye contact with Sansa in that way that people only did when they were trying to hide their true reaction. Their true feelings.

“Have you told Jon that?” Val asked. “Or would you rather he just-”

“Jon approves!” Sansa interrupted, not wanting to hear what Val was about to say.

“Does he?”

The group found them before Sansa could formulate a response. She wanted desperately to talk to Jon, to find out if Val was right, but her focus was broken by the sight of Harry and Dany. 

She was riding on his back, acting somewhat innocent and playful, if maybe a little too physically intimate for Sansa’s comfort. That was mostly because of Dany’s outfit though. She had a fairly standard navy-blue bikini on, but over that was a perfectly crocheted miniskirt and an off-the-shoulder, green crop-top that made Dany’s curves look like the first lick from a perfect pour of soft serve ice cream.

Sometimes Sansa liked it when girls flirted with Harry. He was always so happy and charming about it, yet also respectful. As a bonus, flirting with other girls always got him all excited and confident, that energy then transferring to their intimate times. Seeing him with other girls made Sansa feel like she was more desirable for having such a desirable boyfriend, even if that was probably the wrong way of looking at it. It was like Harry was being tested over and over again with prettier and prettier girls and every time Sansa got to witness him stay loyal to her. That was satisfaction if Sansa had ever felt it.

Harry didn’t let Dany off his back or speak to Sansa until they all started heading to the taco stand. When he finally did put her down, it was only because she insisted. They kept on talking for a while after though, so Sansa didn’t interrupt. At one point Harry put his arm around Dany, like he’d done earlier, but the slight silver-princess squeezed out of his grasp with a flourish of her miniskirt. She gave Harry an inscrutable look before scurrying away in her ankle-strap heels. Harry was openly leering at Dany’s ass as the flowing material of her skirt flipped and flicked with her hips.

Harry was still leering when Dany caught up with Gendry, wrapping her dainty little arms around his comically beefy bicep. Gendry started blushing and Arya teased him about it, saying that Dany should give him a little kiss if she wanted to see him turn really red. Surprisingly Dany did just that, jumping up to peck Gendry on the lips, to Arya’s amused hoots and cackles.

Sansa saw Harry’s smile melt like curdled milk.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Sansa turned and was faced with Daenerys Targaryen’s twin. Only this one was wearing gorgeous, black leather ankle-boots and faded-blue jean shorts, so ripped up and tiny that the pockets were visible and hanging far past the hems of the legs. Matching the boots was a black fishnet tank top that would show everything if it wasn’t for the neon pink bandeau underneath. Her hair was also much longer than Dany’s, styled into a complicated tiara braid yet still having enough hair leftover to hang loosely down her back. Sansa finally recognized the girl from her accent.

_”Shit, I haven’t seen her since that fucking Halloween Party.”_

“He is a very handsome man, like a storybook knight,” Serenai commented, waiting to see for Sansa’s reaction. “I am almost jealous.”

“Thank you Serenai.” 

Sansa would have been less surprised to see Theon Greyjoy. 

“So when did you get here?” she asked in the sweetest possible tone.

“Oh, Arya texted a group of us to meet you all here. It sounded more fun than my plans.”

Sansa nodded. That made sense and seemed very much like something Arya would do. She excused herself from Serenai and beelined for her little sister. She was in the middle of giving Jon a full report when Sansa caught up to them. Gendry and Dany were a bit behind them, away from earshot, and Sansa noticed now that Gendry was carrying a teddy bear under the arm that Dany wasn’t wrapped around.

“So you approve?” Jon asked Arya.

“Oh totally, she’s like the coolest, most badass woman I’ve ever met,” Arya laughed, brushing her fingers through her ponytail. “And she’s clearly got you all giddy.”

Jon blushed. “I can’t believe she told you the horse story.”

“What’s the horse story?” Sansa asked.

Jon blushed even more when he noticed Sansa and drifted away mumbling some excuse about wanting to talk to Gendry. Arya was grinning like a snake so now Sansa had to know.

“What is it?”

“It’s just the story of Jon and Dany’s first date. First real date anyway,” Arya tittered. “Jon took her to this guy he knows who owns a horse ranch. They rode some mares and followed some trails. Dany was crazy into it though, apparently. She grew up around horses her entire life and almost never gets to see them, so she got so excited at being around them again that she even offered to help some of the farm hands break in a new stallion. According to Dany, Jon was so taken by the sight of her breaking the horse in as she rode it that he…”

Arya let the silence linger. Sansa wanted to claw her eyes out from the suspense.

“What happened?” Sansa finally cracked.

“Well the way Dany put it…” Arya was whispering as she took Sansa by the arm and leaned close. “He was so taken by the sight that he begged her to do the same thing to him.”

Sansa instantly thought of the night she and Harry had heard them. 

Was that before or after Daenerys had broken “in the stallion”? Sansa’s vote was for after. She also decided that it was time to change the conversation topic before she embarrassed herself.

“Did you win Gendry that bear?”

Arya grinned a toothy kid’s grin at that. “They have an old-fashioned bb gun hunting game. Bagged myself 12 fake rabbits and 33 metal ducks.”

The ground had shifted from sand to pavement and now to hardened and lacquered wood as they stepped onto the pier. The smells of fried fair-food and cheap chemically created sugar confections caressed Sansa’s nose and made her give a shaky sigh of desire. Yes, the chaotic senses and smells would serve as a great distraction today. Sansa already felt her blood pumping, the excitement bringing her joy back.

“By the way,” Sansa said as she remembered her original reason for wanting to talk to Arya. “Who are these friends you invited to our beach day?”

“Geez Sansa, you make it sound like an exclusive club or something,” Arya griped. “It’s just Brea, Talea, Daena, and Serenai. Oh, and also Edric.”

“Edric?” Sansa was alarmed that Arya of all people would invite him. “Isn’t he your ex-boyfriend? And why would you invite Serenai? Especially after that fucking Halloween party?”

“Oh, Serenai isn’t so bad,” Arya laughed. “She loves you now that you’re social media famous. And I think the Halloween Party cooled her off on Jon a little.”

“Or just scared her away,” Sansa mumbled.

“Even hotter- I mean better!” Arya quickly corrected.

“But to invite an ex-boyfriend while Gendry is here, is that a good idea?” Sansa eyed Gendry, still blushing and listening as Dany prattled on about something. 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Sansa, you worry about your life and I’ll worry about mine, okay?” It was such a Val thing to say.

“Hey, you can talk to me about this stuff,” Sansa responded. “I would talk to you about my boy problems.”

“Would you?” Arya doubted.

“Absolutely.”

“You sure?” Arya’s Stark eyes pointed into Sansa’s heart and she couldn’t help but glance at Harry again.

He was talking to Jon now. They seemed to be friendly… but Sansa could tell that Jon’s guard was up a little bit. Harry wasn’t guarded at all, he was open and friendly, almost feverishly friendly in fact. Like he was trying to throw around as much weight as possible but doing it with a charming smile. He brushed Jon’s back a lot and punched his arm more than Sansa thought was needed for regular male bonding. Jon was being pleasant though. Perfunctorily, pleasantly, pleasant.

“Does Jon like Harry?”

Arya exhaled. “It doesn’t matter Sansa. He’ll never do anything about it. He’ll never say anything about it. Not unless you ask.”

“Why?” Sansa honestly wondered.

“That’s just the way Jon is,” Arya said. “And to be fair Sansa, you can’t have it both ways. He can be supportive or he can be honest.”

That cut deeper than Arya had probably meant it. 

Sansa found herself before a cash register and a young teenage boy, a little younger than Arya, bored and waiting for her to order something. Sansa bought a breakfast burrito and an extra serving of guacamole. She felt she was going to need the emotional fuel today.

Once she and Arya had ordered they grabbed some tables. Harry finally sat next to Sansa, but Serenai joined as well. Sansa sat across from Harry while Gendry sat across from Arya, Serenai on Harry’s other side. Filling out the table next to Sansa was a young man with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes, who Sansa could only guess was Edric. His attention wasn’t on Arya, or Gendry as Sansa might have expected, but instead on Serenai. His expression screamed a casual indifference that could only come from a concerted effort.

_”Oh Arya, that’s far too ambitious for your first matchmaking attempt.”_

“So babe, how was the beach?” Harry asked, finally pointing his attention in the right direction.

“A little boring, but the sunrise was neat,” Sansa lied.

Harry nodded and spoke a little bit about the games they had played, careful to mention amusing anecdotes about Arya and Gendry, but sensibly omitting any mention of Dany. At one point Harry said something that made even Arya chuckle a little, but Sansa hadn’t been listening. Her attention had only been on Serenai the whole time.

Harry’s too.

_”I need talk to Jon alone.”_

She got her chance later around noon, after they had eaten, when the sun started getting higher and the air became warmer. Sansa’s legs had started to feel sweaty and her thighs were starting to chafe, her hands firmly planted over the back of her sundress. At first she had been fine, walking normally and uncaring if the wind uncovered her bits a little, but Harry had loudly commented on her exposed bottom three times in a row, (“As a joke,” he clarified) so she was done feeling adventurous. 

Her feet were in even worse pain than her legs. Sansa considered herself something of an expert on expensive footwear that put style above comfort, but the wedges had proven to be a tougher challenge than she’d anticipated. Arya had wisely worn gray lace-up sneakers, even warning Sansa that the wedges would be a mistake, so Sansa knew she would get no sympathy there. Sansa could only watch as Dany skipped around in her comfortable, thick blocky heels, green with envy.

Everyone was heading to the bumper cars, Jon and Sansa the only ones who opted out. Jon claimed it was because the cars made him nauseous, but in truth he was the only one who caught sight of Sansa when she tripped. One of the straps on her shoes had broken suddenly, causing her to pitch forward and eat it on a tiny cement bench. She was unharmed if not mortified, when Jon helped her sit down and checked her ankle, meanwhile Sansa began working on fixing the strap.

His grip felt warm on Sansa’s heel, fingers squeezing around the arch of her foot and pressing. Sansa was glad for the pressure, otherwise she might have embarrassed herself by revealing how ticklish she was. She focused on the back of Jon’s head and his messy long black hair, pulled back into a loose manbun, to keep from making any involuntary noises. 

Jon made sure his back was turned on Sansa while he examined her foot, to avoid any chance of seeing up her dress at the cute, lacey-blue boyshorts she had worn for Harry. They were his favorites. He always claimed that the high-cut bottoms showed off her shapely cheeks in a more subtle and appealing way than a simple thong or g-string.

“Alright, your ankle is fine,” Jon announced, standing and dusting off his backside of any dust. “Let me know if you need any other help.”

“Thanks Jon,” Sansa said to his back. 

He was stepping away when Sansa hooked a finger through a belt loop in Jon’s pants. 

“Hey, come sit with me a second.”

She felt him pull a little more before turning around, forcing Sansa to let go. 

Jon wasn’t really that tall in truth. His body was just so lithe and agile, giving him the appearance of being taller than he was. Even with the muscles on top of muscles that came from all his self-defense training, his regular police training, and whatever extreme sport stuff Val made him do, Jon still looked more like a swimmer than a bodybuilder. Except those arms. His arms were the one exception. Those things were just big.

Jon sat on the cement bench next to her then, his legs looking comically scrunched up when he sat on the hard, low-to-the-ground surface. Sansa had her legs out straight in front of her, her freshly-shaved gams shining slightly in the sun, hopefully giving her pale skin a little bit more color. It looked sort of silly with one foot in a wedge and the other bare, so she kicked the other one off too. On a strange impulse, Sansa turned and dropped her feet into Jon’s lap and wiggled her toes.

“Rub,” she ordered. Jon complied.

As he worked, Sansa shifted and felt cold stone scratch against her buttocks, so she adjusted slightly to make sure she was sitting on the bottom of her skirt, the thin gossamer barrier being better than nothing. When she was finished, Sansa thought she spotted Jon eying her legs, but the look was gone quicker than could be seen and Jon was silently focused on rubbing Sansa’s feet.

“Does that feel alright?” Jon asked after a while.

Sansa just nodded, not quite trusting her voice yet. When she tried to say something, nothing came out and she realized she was close to tears. She felt so stupid and needy and Jon’s hands were so relaxing. The pier was supposed to be the fun thing they all did together before Arya and Sansa went to Connecticut for Christmas and left Jon all alone, and here she was roping him into her stupid boy drama.

Her internal tirade was interrupted when Jon stopped the foot rub to instead wrap his arm around her shoulders. On instinct Sansa pressed her face into Jon’s chest, worrying the collar of his shirt with her nose. It smelled like sand and salt and smokey bonfires and weirwood sap and Sansa’s flowery laundry detergent and most importantly Jon. Sansa recognized how especially safe she felt with Jon’s arm around her then. It felt safer than she’d remembered being in a long time.

“Sansa?” Jon’s voice was like velvet.

“Why don’t you like Harry?” Sansa whispered into Jon’s collar. She thought at first that he hadn’t heard her, that maybe she could take it back, but then she felt the long breath that Jon let slide from his chest.

“It’s not that I don’t like him…” Jon answered diffidently.

Sansa sat up, looking into Jon’s eyes. He didn’t waver from her stare.

“So what is it?” 

“He just… he should have the chance to tell you himself,” Jon blurted out a little, but once it was out he couldn’t stop himself anymore. “Whatever I might think, however I might judge him, what matters is that he makes you happy.” 

Sansa nodded, unsure of what to say to that.

“And maybe he’s just made mistakes you know?” Jon continued. “Maybe he’s doing better now. He’s probably matured since then. And maybe one day he’ll tell you all about it, and in telling you, you’ll both grow closer and heal and Harry will… will…”

“He’ll what?”

The look on Jon’s face frightened Sansa. He had given her frightening looks before, but it was always in the context of sex, either the things that women liked to do to Jon, or have Jon do to them. Even the way Jon described his games with Arya, all heated and predatory and arrogant and so unlike the regular Jon, frightened Sansa less than the look he was giving her now. It was more passionate, more unwavering, more all-consuming. 

For the first time Jon was not dark and unknowable ice… but fire.

“He’ll what Jon?” Sansa asked again.

“He’ll become worthy of you.”

The way Jon said it, his face down and his arm pulling her even closer, Sansa thought he might kiss her. She turned Jon’s chin toward her face and Jon stared so intently into her eyes, she could tell that he wasn’t looking for something.

He’d already found it.

“What did Harry do Jon?” Sansa had to know. She had to. It was time.

“Look…” Jon began, lifting his arm from around her shoulder so he could lean forward with his elbows on his knees, creating a shell with his body over Sansa’s feet. “You think you need to know because it’s something… villainous, but it’s not. It’s just… it’s something that came up when I was doing a background check on him-”

“You what?” Sansa was slightly alarmed by that.

“If it makes you feel any better, I did the same thing with Gendry. And I had Val do the actual check, I never read any specific information unless something comes up. I just… I just look if a red flag pops up.”

“And something came up on Harry,” Sansa finished for him. 

She thought of the way Val had looked at Harry, with such utter disdain for one moment before she’d managed to put up her fake smile and even faker compliments. The pity she’d been trying to hide when she talked to Sansa about him. Whatever it was, Val knew.

“Sansa, has Harry ever mentioned a woman named Cissy?”

Sansa’s stomach dropped. “Is she…?”

“No, she’s not his mistress or anything,” Jon added quickly to Sansa’s relief. “She’s just a woman who used to work for Anya Waynwood, Harry’s legal guardian.”

“I met Ms. Waynwood,” Sansa said. “She was a very nice woman. She made me feel very welcome in her home. I think she’s a good person, if a bit proud.”

“She may very well be,” Jon reassured Sansa, taking her hand into his. Sansa was reminded of how he held her hand on the beach and suddenly felt inexplicably, absurdly better. “Except this woman Cissy… Anya Waynwood fired her and then immediately put a substantial amount of money into an offshore account in… in the name of her daughter…”

Sansa didn’t understand.

“The daughter’s name is Alys. She lives in Colorado with her mother. Her grades are good and her mother seems to do well by her. And she…” Jon struggled to find the right words. “… and she looks like her father.”

Now Sansa gasped, her hands pulling from Jon’s grip and going over her mouth on impulse. Harry was the same age as Sansa… and yet he had a daughter? On a woman who had worked for his Aunt Anya? Sansa asked how old the daughter was, and when Jon answered 6, Sansa did some quick math. Harry was turning 21 soon, so he had been 15 at the most, possibly younger when Alys was conceived. Had this woman preyed upon Harry in some way, violated him and his trust and the trust of her employer, causing some sort of damage or scar that Sansa had never seen? That Harry had never shown her?

Then Sansa’s thoughts turned to a darker direction.

“Did he… did he…?” She couldn’t even get it out.

“There’s nothing to say he did, no evidence or records of a complaint,” Jon explained in a flat tone that Sansa recognized as being his “cop” voice. “Just the one case where she sued the Waynwoods for child support, but it was later settled out of court.”

“And that was the red flag Val told you about?” Sansa asked, though she could already see the answer on Jon’s face. “That wasn’t it, right? A civil lawsuit about money, that seems like something that the police wouldn’t care that much about.”

“That was just… I found out about Cissy when I looked deeper into Harry’s history,” Jon explained, clearly uncomfortable to be sharing this. “I know how it sounds, but I needed to get a better idea of the situation and the best way to do that is to see if the perp- if this kind of thing was a one-time mistake or… or if it’s part of a pattern.”

“Mother help me…” Sansa cried, though even as tears were starting to form, she felt her disappointment and sadness turning to righteous fury. “Just tell me Jon, it almost feels cruel to drag it out at this point.”

“I just don’t want to start trouble where there might be none,” Jon pleaded, reaching for Sansa’s hand again but she shook him off. “He might tell you more about these things on his own, on his own time. He’ll be able to explain it better than I could.”

“You mean he’ll paint pretty lies over all the truth,” Sansa snapped, causing Jon to look somehow even more defeated than Sansa felt. Except now Jon was the one who didn’t understand.

“I already told him everything,” Sansa explained.

“What?” That snapped Jon out of his guilt spiral. “You mean about… about Joffrey? About Petyr?”

Sansa nodded, her eyes on the ground as she fussed with the bottom of her dress with her fingers. This morning, when she stood in front of her mirror and did a little spin, feeling weightless and beautiful and like everything was going perfectly, felt like a different time entirely. She wanted that feeling back. Why hadn’t she just gone along with the lies? Ignorance was truly bliss, like everyone said.

Jon had tried to protect her from it… but Harry didn’t deserve his protection.

“He knows my deepest, darkest secret, so now I want to know his,” Sansa spoke, venom dripping from her words.

Jon sighed. This was clearly not what he had wanted.

“That girl he cheated on your friend Myranda with? Saffron?”

“Myranda’s not my friend anymore…” Sansa mumbled unhelpfully.

“Well either way, that girl?” Jon continued. “She’s currently pregnant. And now, since Harry’s not a minor, she’s suing him directly for child support. Anya Waynwood has had a team of lawyers fighting it for the past 6 months.”

“Of course they are,” Sansa bitterly spat. “Harry wants his trust protected.” Now Jon looked confused so Sansa explained. “Harry doesn’t want to be an Economics major, or any major really. He’s only attending Oldtown because his aunt threatened to cut him off if he didn’t get at least a bachelor’s degree. And he doesn’t do all that charity volunteering because he’s a good person, or even for his resume, which I would understand at least. It’s all just his aunt telling him what to do.”

“Maybe that’s good.” Jon offered. “She’s trying to put him on the right path. There’s nothing wrong with letting her.”

“Jon, Harry hates his aunt,” Sansa laughed. “He hates her so much over nothing. I thought at first it was because of the pressure she puts on him, but the truth is way lamer.” Sansa still remembered the way Harry explained it to her in the car, five minutes before they had entered the Waynwood mansion for Thanksgiving, like he thought that was enough time for Sansa to process everything. It was probably more convenient for him to do that way, Sansa reasoned.

“He only does what Ms. Waynwood says because she’s in control of his inheritance. It used to be Harry would get the money when he turned 18, but then she moved it to 25 so he would go to college. He does whatever she says to make sure she doesn’t move it again to 40 or whatever.”

“Oh,” Jon whispered, his hopes for Harry looking properly dashed. 

Sansa was a little warmed by Jon’s disappointment. He had really tried. While Val and Arya were happy to make snappy remarks, Jon had tried to befriend Harry. Defend him. It wasn’t Jon’s fault that Harry was such a giant tool bag that Sansa had to keep making excuses for again and again.

“I always tell myself that he’s going to grow up someday, try to be something,” Sansa continued. “But the truth is, once Harry has access to his trust fund, he’s probably going to just coast for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t tell me how much is in there, but Ms. Waynwood implied that it’s enough that Harry would never have to work a single day in his life.”

“Having money isn’t a crime,” Jon offered lamely.

“It’s not,” Sansa agreed.

“Sansa, I’m really sorry.”

“I only have one last question and you have to be honest with me.” Sansa lifted her feet off Jon’s lap so she could sit forward, facing Jon. The cement bench felt uncomfortable against her bare knees but she wanted Jon to look her in the face when he answered.

“Of course,” Jon nodded. “Just tell me what you want to know.”

Sansa got it then. What Jeyne said at the beach mixed with Arianne’s words in the bar. It all came together when Sansa remembered what Arya had said to her the night of Sansa’s birthday freak-out. Even Harry had sort of said it at the Halloween Party, though Sansa had forgotten because she was always trying to forget that party.

Jon only did what girls wanted. Nothing more, nothing less. All they had to do was say the word.

“I want to know,” Sansa started, emphasizing the word so much that she could actually see Jon’s physical reaction. “Has Harry ever tried to make a pass at Daenerys?”

“No,” Jon answered too quickly. Then he grimaced. “Yes,” he added. “Kind of.”

“Jon?”

“It’s just… Dany can be confusing sometimes, she's even admitted it. Guys have trouble understanding when she’s just being playful and when she’s being serious. I still make the mistake sometimes.” Jon cleared his throat. “She’d made a comment about-”

“Stop.” Sansa leaned forward then, her forehead pressing into the safety of Jon’s shoulder. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to know.”

Jon reached a hand around her neck then, his fingers running through her hair, sending shivers up her spine and down below her waist. Sansa scooted her body closer to Jon’s for that, until she felt his arm between her breasts, her knees pushing up against his hip. His unoccupied hand was still open in his lap, so Sansa took it into her own and squeezed.

“Jon? Want to see something?” Sansa whispered.

She slid Jon’s hand over her leg, stroking it up the smooth, creamy skin that she had shaved and moisturized for Harry. Her legs were still slippery with sweat, so Jon’s hand felt nice and course as it moved up her skin like a knife through butter, until his palm was settled over her hip. She liked how big his hand felt under her dress. His fingers instinctively grasped onto the delicate lace of her panties, scratching and pulling in a way that made the fabric rub at Sansa’s sticky center.

_”Shit. How the fuck does Jon always get me so wet?”_

“Sansa?” he gasped.

“It’s okay,” Sansa cooed into his ear. “This is what I want.”

That somehow broke Jon even more than the feel of her ass in his hand. He was shuddering, so Sansa decided she would be the cautious one as she glanced around for witnesses. The group was still enjoying their bumper cars, and the one family that was nearby enough to see was too focused on a baby in her stroller doing something cute. They were fine, Sansa decided. Hiding in plain sight.

“Jon, I want you to lift up my skirt and look,” Sansa whispered.

He groaned but obeyed, reaching his other hand around Sansa’s other leg, his hand a fiery brand as it brushed over her knee, Sansa’s tummy aflutter with desire. This time instead of gripping her bum, his hand drifted to the front of her dress, lifting the fabric with the one finger. Sansa liked how even now, Jon was trying to be slow and careful as he exposed her heat to the open air. When he caught sight of her bare thighs, the soft fabric stretching over the mound between her legs, his eyes were drunk-looking.

When his thumb fluttered under the fabric, oh-so-close to the skin that was still sensitive where Sansa had shaved this morning, she gripped Jon’s wrist to stop him.

Like a flash of lightning his touch was gone from her body. He was on the opposite edge of the bench now, still turned toward Sansa but also guarded, like he thought she would jump him at any moment. Or maybe the opposite. Sansa flattened her dress out a little and sat demurely, legs together and folded under her bum, as if nothing had happened.

“Sansa, why?” Jon gulped.

“I wore this dress for me,” Sansa started to explain. “I wore it because I feel pretty in it, so I don’t care if anyone thinks it’s scandalous or too short or-”

“Sansa,” Jon interrupted. “You are a vision in that dress.”

It felt strange knowing that Jon was saying that, even now after Sansa had said no to him. After she knew that Jon understood that she didn’t want to have sex with him. Still, she could understand why he was also confused. She felt a little confused too.

“The dress is for me,” Sansa explained again. “But the underwear… that was for Harry.”

“But why…?”

“Because Harry and I are going to have a talk tonight, and I think I already know how that talk is going to end,” Sansa sighed. “I’m going to see if we can wait until the end of the day, so I don’t ruin beach day but…” Sansa felt tears coming up even as she knew this was the right decision. She hated it.

“I just thought one guy should get to see my cute, sexy underwear today.”

“But-”

“And you were being a good guy,” Sansa interrupted. “I’ve never been felt up by a good guy before, you know? Someone who takes ‘no’ for an answer. It was nice.”

Jon looked as sad to hear that as Sansa felt to say it.


	7. Chapter 7 - Beach Day! (Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of bumpy in the middle there, but a pretty perfect Beach Day overall.

**4:43PM**

Sansa took a sip of her coconut water, the semi-sweet liquid washing away the sugary snack flavors from her mouth. Her feet hurt, her legs were tired, she had sweat going down her neck, over her back, and probably some in her butt crack too, but otherwise she felt pretty good. It had been a full and perfect day of sun, fun, and friends. Picture perfect.

For the most part.

After their talk, she purposely avoided Jon as much as possible, wanting to make sure that he had an enjoyable time at the beach and didn’t worry about her. Sansa had tried to spend as much time as possible with Harry, hoping that she would come to some realization about her boyfriend that would make all her doubts go away, but life wasn’t a romantic comedy.

Hours earlier everyone had agreed to go to the Haunted House, at Arya’s insistence, and even though Harry had promised he would hold Sansa’s hand and protect her, it wasn’t even five minutes when Sansa lost him. She’d been forced to hold Val and Jeyne’s hands during the especially scary parts instead. When she got through the house, Arya teasing her about being afraid the whole time, Sansa was greeted by the sight of Harry comforting Daena, Arya’s high school friend, as she cried about the panic attack she’d had from some man dressed up in werewolf makeup. It was very chivalrous of Harry, at least according to Dany, but Sansa found herself getting exasperated when Daena squeezed Sansa’s boyfriend so tight that her breasts started spilling out of her tank top against Harry’s chest.

It seemed Harry had decided at some point that he didn’t want to spend Beach Day with Sansa, opting instead for the company of Dany and Arya’s friends. Sansa didn’t want to be jealous or fault him for being friendly, but it didn’t help her anxieties.

At one point Harry had won a cheap, plastic boa from a strongman game, raising the comically large hammer over his head and ringing the bell in a showy display that made Arya’s friends all “oooh” and “ahhh” at him. Sansa would never wear such a gaudy plastic piece of costuming, yet she became incensed when Harry draped the boa over Serenai’s shoulders, joking that it matched her bandeau.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Sansa had muttered to herself. She didn’t say more though, fearing Val might overhear.

Eventually the day started to wind down, all the rides had been ridden, all the attractions visited, and the group returned to the beach. Jon showed everyone how to set up a bonfire, and soon after they were sitting in a circle around the strange, square structure that Jon had built out of driftwood. Thankfully Harry sat beside his girlfriend for that at least, even offering Sansa a Coconut Water that he had bought because he knew she loved it so much.

He had his arm around her shoulders, securing Sansa into his lap and pressing her back to his chest. Harry’s grip was possessive and his chest felt warmer than the bonfire, so much of Sansa’s irritation dissipated immediately. When he started massaging the tension out of her hips and thighs, without going under her dress, Sansa almost forgot why she was mad at him at all.

Directly across from Sansa and Harry, framed by the fire, were Dany and Jon. Jon was sitting between Dany’s legs, his back to her chest, her arms wrapped around his middle. Jon was playing idly with her fingers as they stared into the flames, Dany whispering into his hair. Occasionally Jon would smile a little and she would kiss him lightly on the neck. Jon would respond by running a finger through Dany’s short, silver hair, causing her to shiver and pull him even tighter to her chest.

Arya and Gendry were to Sansa’s left. Val, Jeyne, and Arya’s friends were clustered together on Sansa’s right. Edric had gone alone into the water, standing ankle-deep as he watched the sunset. Sansa had worried about him being unaccompanied but Arya assured her that he was fine.

“Fucking hells, get a room,” Harry growled, causing Sansa to look away from Edric’s silhouette to Jon and Dany.

They were still doing their regular thing, teasing and kissing, so Sansa was confused until she heard a soft thump and looked over at Arya.

The thud was Gendry apparently, falling onto his back in the sand. Arya was on top of him, her mouth sealed over his, one hand planted firmly on Gendry’s chest to keep him pinned and the other tickling under his faded t-shirt around his hip. Arya was making a soft, whimpering noise until Gendry gripped her by both arms and shook her off. He sat up with a grunt and wiped his face with the back of his hand before walking away.

Arya was saying something to his back but Gendry just ignored her. The look on Arya’s face was distressing but it became fury when she heard her friends giggling and whispering. Sansa’s little sister bared her teeth at them like a wild animal.

“Shut the fuck up!” She screeched before running after Gendry.

Sansa felt a little guilty, like maybe she should do something to help her sister, but she noticed that Jon was staying still, even as he watched Arya leave with a careful eye. If Jon thought she was fine, then Sansa could believe that too. Maybe a little space would be good.

“Thank the gods we’re not like that, right?” Harry laughed.

“Like what?” Sansa asked, honestly curious.

“Just all dramatic and fighting and bullshit,” Harry explained. “That always gets old real quick. That’s why I like you so much baby. You’re not like other girls. You’re low-maintenance.”

Sansa felt herself smile. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone called her low-maintenance. The opposite in fact. Fussy, stuck-up, stubborn, but never low-maintenance. Once Jon had floated the idea of going on a camping trip, until Sansa explained all the things she would need to bring, hair straighteners and face moisturizers and the like. He and Arya had quickly dropped the idea.

“How am I low-maintenance?” Sansa asked, shifting away from Harry a bit so she could look up at his face.

“You know, like not picking fights all the time over nothing. We just have fun and don’t overthink it,” Harry went on, running a warm hand down Sansa’s leg as he pulled her in for a kiss. “In fact, I’m thinking of having a little more fun right now…”

Sansa pressed a finger to his chin.

“What do you mean? We fight plenty.”

“Uh, well sure, but never in like a big blow-up,” Harry said, befuddled by Sansa’s denial. “Like we annoy each other and shit, but it never gets serious.”

“Annoy each other how?” Sansa asked, now placing her hand on Harry’s chest so he couldn’t interrupt with another kiss. “And why aren’t we getting serious? You know it’s possible to have a serious conversation without fighting, right?”

Harry appeared unconvinced. “S-sure Sansa, but like… you’re not like that at all.”

Now Sansa was the one unconvinced, and Harry could see that from her expression.

“You’re just different, you know?” Harry started. “Every girl I’ve ever dated always points out how many mistakes I make, or when I forget things. It’s always about how I need to be doing better, like I’m not good enough. Like I’m some slacker screw-up or something. Fuck, if you knew the number of times I’ve heard that…”

Harry started to laugh, running his hand through his hair and looking off into the middle distance, remembering. Sansa let him continue, even as she wondered how the conversation had somehow shifted from him answering her question to this ramble.

“You though? You accept me for who I am.” This time Harry kissed her on the forehead. “There are no games, no bullshit, no whiny insecure passive aggressive comments. You’re just there for me, supporting me, and that will always mean a lot.”

Sansa felt Harry run his fingers through her hair, playing with the ends as he brushed some strands lightly around her ear. The sun was a fat, glistening drop of light in the sky, dripping syrupy sweet warmth around Harry’s head like a halo. She could feel his chest expanding as he took a deep breath, and she could feel his manhood starting to swell under her thighs as Harry shifted her in his lap. His breath felt warm and tickling on her shoulder. He brushed a thumb over the strap of her sundress and it started to turn Sansa on a little bit.

But unlike Jon, she could say no.

“If I mean that much to you, maybe you could have shown it more today,” Sansa responded, batting Harry’s hand away and adjusting the strap.

Harry was surprised but bounced back quickly. “I’m sorry babe. Next time I’ll-”

“Do what?” Sansa interrupted. “Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

“What?” Harry asked, his gallant charm chipping away to reveal frustration. “Fine. What am I apologizing for then? You clearly want to say it, so just say it.”

“You spent the entire day with Daenerys,” Sansa snapped, proud that her tone wasn’t hesitant or relenting. “Not part of the day, not a few hours or a few rides, but the whole day. When you weren’t hanging off her every word, you started flirting with those high school girls-”

“Hey that’s not fair!” Harry almost shouted, lowering his volume at the last second. “You said-”

“Yes, I know,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it turns me on when you flirt with other girls, but dammit Harry, you know what turns me on more? When you flirt with me!”

Sansa felt the words piling up, ready to be unleashed.

“Arya and I are going to Connecticut in three days. Three days! You and I won’t see each other for two weeks!” Sansa explained, making sure her words were careful yet still strong. “Don’t you care? Am I allowed to tell my mom that we’re dating? What happens if this turns out to be a turkey drop or something? I don’t even know where we stand, and it doesn’t do great things for my confidence when you won’t even spend these last days with me.”

“I introduced you to my family,” Harry returned, his frustration still there but lessening.

“Yes, you introduced me to your Aunt Anya,” Sansa nodded. “But I mean come on Harry, you didn’t do that for me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You didn’t want me to meet your family because you’re taking this relationship seriously. You did it because you wanted Ms. Waynwood to get off your back about-” Sansa stopped herself there.

“About what?” Harry asked, his frown growing.

_”Your fucking baby mama,”_ Sansa finished, but she answered, “About you and Saffron.”

Harry looked confused and ready to question her, but something must have clicked in his mind. Releasing her from his grip, Harry scooted back and stood, holding his hand out for Sansa to take so she could stand with him. Her boyfriend made charming excuses to everyone about wanting to stroll the beach with Sansa, and once the general cooing was over they started walking.

Sansa spared a glance back at Jon. He was purposely focusing on Dany, trying not to meddle, like he had done for Arya and Gendry. He was trusting her to resolve her own problems. For some reason that emboldened Sansa.

“Look babe, I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone but I need to ask you something,” Harry started after a few minutes. “And you have to promise not to get mad.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the groan. She felt progressively weary every time Harry asked questions like that.

“Just say it,” Sansa sighed.

“Did Jon tell you something about me and Dany?”

Sansa stopped in her footsteps. Harry had been holding her hand but she shook off his grip. When he turned to look at her, his face was without shame. Sansa however felt more and more embarrassed.

“Maybe he did,” Sansa whispered.

Harry’s reply was immediate. “That FUCKING asshole!”

Sansa jumped back, startled more than scared. Harry was pacing in front of her, throwing his arms up and down in violent gesticulations that looked both menacing due of his size and pathetic due to his age. For the first time, the arrogant, masculine bass of Harry’s voice was replaced by some cloying, squeaking noise that made Sansa’s entire body clamp up in the opposite of arousal.

“I fuck up one fucking thing and that guy just has to jump on his chance to embarrass me!” Harry ranted. “What even the fuck is that guy’s problem anyway? I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. I should have known he was going to be a fucking drama queen about this. And I was fucking right. Fuck! FUUUCK!”

“Harry, honey, tell me what’s wrong?” Sansa managed to ask between bouts of griping.

“Jon is a fucking asshole is what’s wrong,” Harry grumbled, now no longer raging but still stiff in the shoulders. “You should be careful around him Sansa, he’s not what he seems. I don’t even get what Dany sees in him.”

That made Sansa snap. “What does it matter what Dany sees in him? What does she have to do with any of this?”

“You know he’s like, a fucking predator, right?” Harry continued unnoticing of Sansa’s own anger. “He’s probably gonna fuck all of your friends and all your sister’s friends and give them all VD, if he hasn’t done the same to your sister already.”

Sansa laughed as she shook her head, amazed and alarmed at this strange, resentful side of Harry.

“Oh, and that’s funny to you?” Harry asked.

“I just think it’s interesting that you hold Jon in such a low regard,” Sansa answered, crossing her arms and staring Harry right back in the face. “You’d think he’d be your fucking hero, considering how jealous you are of him.”

“What? What the fuck does that mean?”

Like a bolt of lightning Harry was suddenly gone from Sansa’s eyeline and by her side, gripping her hard by the arms and turning her on the balls of her feet to look at him. Though Harry had been angry and ranting before, there was something even more disquieting about the look he gave Sansa now. There was anger there, but not just that. She saw something cold and unconcerned with her well-being.

“Did you fuck Jon?” He asked before shaking her slightly. “Huh?”

“No! Did you fuck Daenerys?” Sansa asked, channeling her most inner-bitch. “Wait, of course you didn’t. She needs a man, not a boy. Dany’s got better standards than you.”

“And you don’t have any, right?”

The harsh sound of her slap across Harry’s face rang through the air and seemed to snap them back to their bodies. Whatever evil demons that possessed them previously were gone, leaving the wreckage for Sansa and Harry to clean up. Which meant Sansa would have to clean it up. For now though she stayed silent, wanting to see if Harry would even try to fix this without her helping him.

Sansa realized she didn’t know what Harry would do next. Would he fight for her? Apologize? Try to make her see his side of things? Did she even know anything about him?

“Okay… I deserved that,” Harry finally spoke. “I was out of line.”

“You were.”

Harry looked annoyed at Sansa’s response but continued. “Look, I don’t give a fuck about Jon-”

“Really? Because it seems like you have a lot of opinions-”

“I don’t give a fuck about Jon,” Harry repeated. “And Dany is hot and I like her, but she’s not my girlfriend, you are. I let my temper get the best of me. I’m sorry.”

Sansa nodded. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Harry replied, clearly displeased. “That’s it?”

“Harry, I’m sorry I slapped you, but you still haven’t told me what happened with you and Daenerys,” Sansa continued, not letting a single drop of pity stop her anymore. “And you haven’t really apologized for leaving me alone all day. You should have known that going to the beach was important to me. I’ve been wanting to see the ocean for months and I couldn’t even experience it with my boyfriend. You really hurt me Harry, and I don’t think you even realize how much.”

“Oh Sansa,” Harry chuckled before wrapping her up in a hug. “That’s so silly.”

_”Okay, is this dude fucking with me?”_ Sansa thought as Harry enveloped her in a barrier of warmth and muscles. She knew for a fact that she had mentioned the beach on their very first date, and at least a dozen more times after that. Every time Harry had groused that the beach was such a cliched California thing to do. When Sansa had informed him about their beach day plans originally, he’d almost opted out…

…until Dany said she would be there.

“Harry… can I ask you something?”

“Sure baby,” Harry laughed, letting her go and staring at her with such pure adoration. Sansa would have never guessed that two minutes ago he was ranting like a child at her over something HE had done wrong.

“Do you know a woman named Cissy?” Sansa asked, wanting to give Harry one last shot at honesty.

Harry looked confused for a moment. “Uh… not that I can think of. I think there’s a girl named Cissy in my psych class but… oh wait.”

Sansa watched as he began to realize what she was asking. There was a nervous energy in the air as Sansa waited for him to speak. Harry seemed to realize that diverting wasn’t the best course right now, with so many secrets still being juggled, but he also didn’t explode with the truth like the murderer at the end of a mystery novel. He watched Sansa cautiously, trying to gauge how mad she was, which to be fair was a lot.

“She’s no one, okay?” Harry laughed. “I mean, she’s just a part of my past. She doesn’t mean anything to me now Sansa, I promise.”

“And your daughter?” Sansa whispered, her heart feeling like it was curling up like a rotted fruit.

“Pshh, you mean the reason my aunt extended my trust deadline?” Harry said with a hollow laugh. “Yeah, no, that little bastard means even less…”

That’s when the fight really started.

**6:17PM**

“Hey, can I bum one of those?”

The caramel-apple guy looked startled, glancing around the tucked away corner below the pier where it looked like many employees took their smoke break. Assured that Sansa had spoken to him, the guy scrambled to hand her the cellophane-wrapped packaging, large print reading “Sourleaf” in bold letters on the top with tiny text at the bottom warning of the health risks. Sansa tapped one out, glad to see that these were unfiltered, before handing the package back. He didn’t wait for her to ask for a light.

“Thanks,” Sansa spoke between her teeth as she inhaled.

Once the end caught, Sansa pulled back and nodded, not wanting to encourage the man any further. Thankfully he seemed to sense that that was going to be the extent of their interaction, putting his earbuds back in and getting back to his own life-shortening habits. When Sansa pulled that first drag, it tasted harsh and grimier than she remembered, yet the familiar cool, relaxing buzz swept over her shoulders and through her chest, causing her to sigh in nostalgic bliss.

When Sansa was in high school, some of her friends had pressured her to start smoking. She was resistant until she heard that Joffrey Baratheon liked to hang out with the smoker girls after school. Once she started, Sansa had developed a liking for it. It helped curb her appetite so she could keep her weight down, it soothed her nerves whenever she was stressed about school, and it gave her hands something to do when she felt nervous. She’d mostly quit when she graduated, but smoked a few more times in King’s Landing when she was particularly drunk.

Right now was all about that illicit pleasure though. After the grueling hour-long fight with Harry, culminating in her now ex-boyfriend flipping her off as he peeled away in his car, Sansa had been close to crying, screaming, and punching someone in the face all at once. Preferably a man. The gods had blessed her with nicotine instead.

She lifted the cancer stick from her lips, a glossy pink color now on the end, and exhaled slowly as she remembered all the supposedly good times she had had with Harry. Looking back, Sansa wondered if Harry had ever made her happy. Yes he had met her standards of dating; handsome, charming, just the right amount of old-fashioned, but he’d ended up lacking. When she’d dated Joff, any morsel of kindness that he could spare her had been enough to keep her sated for weeks.

Harry never hit her like Joff… but that was probably the best thing she could say about him right now.

“You want another one?” The man asked, nodding at the stub that Sansa was now nursing.

“I shouldn’t,” Sansa sighed as she let him light another one for her. This one tasted even better, until she heard someone call her name and the formerly sweet taste turned bitter in her mouth.

“Sansa? Is that you?”

Immediately stepping forward and dropping the cigarette behind her, Sansa clapped her hands together to distract and hopefully dilute any smoke smell from her fingers. Arya was staring at her like she had grown an extra head on her head. That’s when Sansa noticed that her sister’s eyes looked red and raw even as she smiled with mischievous promise.

“I can’t believe it,” Arya continued. “Sansa Stark, goody goody and apple of her mother’s eye, smoking! A cigarette! For shame…”

Sansa nodded and rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright, you caught me.”

Arya giggled a little bit more at Sansa’s embarrassment while Sansa wished she hadn’t bothered tossing the cigarette away. If Arya already knew, what was the point of hiding it? She missed the nicotine right now.

Arya leaned against the wooden post at a 90-degree angle from Sansa, still chuckling as she stretched her arms above her head, the bottom of her black tank top riding up to show some skin above the waist of her shorts. Sansa was sure that Arya would continue to poke fun at her shame but instead she was silent.

“Where’s Harry?” Arya eventually asked, her face hidden from Sansa’s eye line.

“Harry and I are done,” Sansa answered, surprised and heartened by the fact that the words came so easy to her.

“Ha, a banner day for the Stark girls then, both of us getting dumped.”

“Hey, I broke up with him!” Sansa flared before she realized what Arya was saying. “Wait, did Gendry break up with you?”

Arya shrugged, still turned away from Sansa, turning her head when Sansa tried to approach her. Arya was always a bit shy about showing emotion and this was no different, yet Sansa worried all the same.

“How could we break up?” Arya reasoned. “We were never really together,”

Sansa frowned at that. “What are you talking about? You spend almost every day together. You two are always holding hands and… I thought things were getting serious between the two of you. Gendry seemed like he wanted-”

“Well I guess you were wrong,” Arya interrupted, the cracks starting to form in her voice. “Or I was wrong, I don’t know. It’s just so stupid.”

Arya turned to Sansa then, her eyes watering, her forehead scrunched up and her lip trembling. In all her life, Sansa had never seen Arya cry, not once. Not ever. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Arya could cry, or did cry, but Arya was always their father’s daughter before anything else, and Eddard Stark was a man who reserved his emotions. Jon was like that too.

Sansa felt unprepared, clumsy and awkward, her hands going up to pull Arya into a hug but then hesitating. When Arya saw that she scoffed and walked away. Sansa made sure to follow. Her clunky wedges made it difficult but Sansa felt compelled nonetheless. Her sister needed her.

“Arya, just talk to me,” Sansa pleaded, ignoring the looks they were both getting from strangers.

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Arya shouted, stopping short so hard that Sansa had to brace herself against her little sister’s shoulders to keep from crashing into her. “Let go of me!”

Arya shook away Sansa’s grip and faced her with fury in her eyes, but that quickly burned out and left only numb, red tears. This time Sansa didn’t falter. She pulled her little sister into her arms and was only slightly surprised when Arya hugged back, her hands gripping tightly to the soft material of Sansa’s dress. She pressed her fingers to Arya’s hair and stroked, letting her touch linger on Arya’s neck to try and soothe her. Like Jon had soothed Sansa earlier. Arya’s grip didn’t relax, but somehow a tension in her shoulders slid away.

“Please Arya, let me help you,” Sansa whispered into the top of her sister’s hair.

“He’s just… so confusing,” Arya began, and once she started the words came easier. “I thought we were dating, I thought we were getting serious, I even stopped messing with Jon because I didn’t want to cheat on him.”

Sansa just nodded, encouraging Arya to continue.

“We started getting more physical and we even went on- I don’t know, I thought they were dates but maybe…”

“Arya, you don’t have to qualify for me,” Sansa offered. “Just tell me what’s in your heart.”

“Ugh,” Arya groaned. “That’s so fucking cheesy.”

Sansa laughed and then Arya laughed a little too. Sansa waited as her sister sniffled and wiped away some tears with the back of her hand before continuing.

“Suddenly today he’s freaking out on me, saying he isn’t my boyfriend, that I’m too young for him, all this garbage that doesn’t even matter!” Arya shouted. “It’s like, I’m older than I was a month ago, so why do you suddenly have a problem with my age now? Plus he started getting weird about me paying for his tickets and stuff but it doesn’t matter! He has a really tight budget and he knows I know that and I like helping him anyway! He’s being such an idiot about it!”

There was a bench by some trash cans that became suddenly unoccupied, so Sansa guided Arya to sit down. Sansa sat and crossed her legs as she put her arm around Arya’s waist, her little sister resting her head on Sansa’s shoulder.

“Then he just started insisting that we were friends and only friends. He wouldn’t hear anything else about it,” Arya finished, gulping air to stifle a little sob. “But I don’t want to be his stupid friend. I want to be with him. I want him to be mine and I want to be his. I’ve never wanted anything like that before.”

“You should tell him that,” Sansa offered.

“No, no,” Arya sighed. “I just have to accept that I can’t force him or convince him. The stupid idiot is too stupid and stubborn.” Sansa had to nod a little at that. If there was anyone more stubborn than her little sister, it would be Gendry.

Then Arya said something that startled her.

“Jon was right. I should just give up on this stupid idea I have of me and Gendry ever being more than friends.”

“What?” Sansa blurted. “Jon said that?”

“No, not exactly like that, but you know,” Arya explained without explaining, stretching her legs out and leaning forward so her head was now between her knees. “I just mean when I first told Jon, he said that it was a bad idea.”

“Why would he say that?” Sansa was genuinely baffled.

“Because Gendry and I are best friends.” Arya’s voice was muffled in this new position, so Sansa leaned down as well to hear better. “Or we were friends. Now I’ve probably ruined any chance of Gendry even talking to me. I shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t have what? Been honest about your feelings?” Sansa asked, gripping Arya by the shoulder so she would sit up.

“It’s not about honesty, it’s about putting my bullshit on Gendry,” Arya argued. “I was fine with things the way they were. Then I wanted to push it, and why? Because I couldn’t control my feelings? I knew Gendry felt weird about all this stuff but I wanted to date him anyway. Now I’ve ruined it with my stupid- I should have-”

Arya gave a wail that drew everyone’s eyes but Sansa didn’t care for once.

“Arya, you did nothing wrong.”

“I was selfish,” Arya retorted, shaking her head as she spoke. “I’m so fucked up and Gendry is too good for me. Being together with him makes me feel a little more normal, but that’s not worth making him feel uncomfortable.”

“Well I disagree,” Sansa responded lamely.

“I should be more like Jon,” Arya continued. “He’s always telling me, you can’t push, you can’t push, never push, and I pushed anyway. I wanted what I wanted and I didn’t care that he didn’t feel the same.”

Sansa knew Arya was really talking to herself so she just stayed silent.

“It was stupid and… and it’s over.” Arya looked at Sansa and gave her the most forced smile if there ever was one. “Or maybe it never really started, you know? And it’s better that way? Maybe now it’ll be easier to go back to being friends, you know?”

Sansa didn’t say anything so Arya just shook her head and gave an empty chuckle. Sansa felt awful and useless. She could see that Arya was still in pain, fighting through the doubt by smiling. Sansa knew that game well. Six months ago, Sansa might have brushed it off as being her imagination. After all, Arya was always weird when they were kids. It was impossible to think that Arya and Sansa would ever have anything in common, let alone about boys.

But Sansa knew better now. Not just about her sister but about everything.

“Enough about me, so what happened with you and Harry?” Arya asked, looking genuinely interested in hearing the story.

“You’re wrong.”

“What?” Arya asked, her forced smile melting away.

“That’s not what love is like at all,” Sansa continued. “You think love isn’t about pushing? Of course it is. You think you can just sit on the sidelines and be content with Gendry’s friendship, when you know in your heart of hearts that he feels the same? Arya Stark, queen of defiance, is ready to give up that easily?”

“It’s not about giving up,” Arya defended herself. “It’s about respecting his boundaries.”

“Boundaries?” Sansa laughed, hoping it sounded more lyrical than cynical. “You think Gendry doesn’t want you? Doesn’t want to be with you? Do you think you made up whatever it is that’s going on between you two?”

“I-I don’t know.” Arya’s tone was still defensive yet less sure. “Maybe.”

“If that’s true, then you never really loved him.”

Sansa started straight into Arya’s eyes and could see it there, just behind the bluster and the backtracking. Even though Arya was trying to look like she was offended by Sansa’s suggestion, like the very idea was laughable to her, there was also fire in her eyes. The kind of fire that only came from knowing the truth even if it felt like you didn’t. If Arya didn’t love Gendry, if she didn’t believe he might love her back, that look in her eyes would have been weaker.

“Or, you did love him,” Sansa continued after a beat. “Maybe you love him so much that you can’t imagine being without him. If he feels anything for you like you feel for him, then Gendry should know that the pain you feel from being apart will be greater than any pain he could possibly cause you. And if he doesn’t believe it, then you have to believe twice as hard.

“Because love _is_ about fighting Arya. Fighting your fear, your pain, your bad memories, but it’s also about fighting the other person's doubts. His pain or his pride, whatever it is that keeps him from opening up completely to you. People don’t want to be vulnerable, but love is only worth it if you make yourself really, truly vulnerable. Fighting for that, trying for that, isn’t a burden. That isn’t being selfish.”

Suddenly Sansa felt her fingers being gripped. She looked down to see Arya’s dark painted nails, her smaller fingers wrapped around Sansa’s own.

“Your love is a gift Arya. Gendry will see that.”

“But what if he rejects me?” Arya whispered. “What if it hurts even more because I opened myself up to him? What if he’s right that we’re not good together?”

“No one knows that Arya,” Sansa pulled her little sister into another hug. “No one knows if they’re going to hurt someone. Help them, love them, leave them. You and Gendry could fall in love and then die in a car crash tomorrow. No one knows. People who pretend otherwise are letting their fears rule them. And I would rather be ruled by love.”

“Do you really believe that?” 

Did she? Once long ago, Sansa Stark had known exactly how her life would play out. After college, she and Joffrey would be married, maybe even planning on having their first child. Joff would work for his father’s company while Sansa tried her hand at making her own clothes as a little side business while raising the children. It was the picture-perfect life that she’d always been promised.

But with those dreams dashed and the visions killed, what did she want for herself? Love? A future? She knew now that she had to be independent, had to have her own life and career and happiness outside of love, if she was ever going to make it. The world was filled with people who wanted to hurt and abuse you, and even those who didn’t were filled with selfish indifference. Only you could protect yourself.

And yet…

When Sansa allowed herself to dream, when she stared off into the ocean and saw the sun spreading out over the world like a warm blanket, she still saw it. That vision of herself. The one she couldn’t let go. She was pregnant and happy, in the arms of the man she loved. Once that face had been Joff’s, but now she could never see that man’s features. Couldn’t see the smile he gave her, feel the warm kiss he placed on her lips, his hands gently caressing her belly, their love.

Sansa wanted to just ignore that, chalk it up to too many romantic comedies growing up and unrealistic expectations set by her parents’ marriage. Once she had been a child dreaming of such silliness, when Sansa Stark was still in love with love. Now she wasn’t sure if such a dream was possible… but wasn’t that the point? To find out?

She didn’t care if it was foolish. Arya had never cared about being foolish. Sansa didn’t feel strong enough to believe in an idea of love for herself… but she could do it for Arya.

If only because Sansa loved her so much.

“I do,” Sansa answered, releasing her sister from their hug and wiping at the fresh tears that had formed on her pretty face, a face that deserved love.

“I do.”

**10:13PM**

Sansa sat down on the toilet seat lid, the sounds of everyone still chatting and enjoying themselves emanating from the living room. Even though Arya and Gendry had managed to mend fences, it was with the understanding that they would go slow. So rather than seek some time alone, Arya had invited everyone to come over to the apartment for drinks and snacks.

At first Sansa had been a bit annoyed that they were suddenly throwing a get-together without any prep time (“A good host is a prepared host!” Sansa had screeched) but now she was glad for it. If she was alone tonight, Sansa might have stopped to overthink her decision, allowing all the little voices to rule her. With people around, Sansa could distract herself from doubt.

Pressing down on the green call button, Sansa held her phone up to her ear and listened to the ring. Part of her was surprised it was ringing at all instead of going straight to voicemail. Then it clicked.

“Hello?”

“Hi, listen, I know you probably want to hang up on me but please just let me get this out,” Sansa explained in rapid beat before taking a breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. It isn’t really your problem, but I want you to know something.” Sansa continued once she realized she wouldn’t be interrupted. “For a long time, I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone because the person I trusted most betrayed me. Ever since then, I always assume people have agendas, that they’re lying to me, that they want something from me. It makes it hard for me to believe that someone might actually care about me in a way that doesn’t somehow benefit them.”

“Sansa-”

“Wait, please, just let me finish.” Sansa could feel the wind going out of her sails.

“I was wrong to judge you so harshly, especially since I never gave you a chance to defend yourself. Maybe you like me, or maybe you hate me now, but either way I like you and I want to try again. I know that might not be the cool thing to say, but it’s the truth. I don’t want us to stop becoming closer. I don’t want to stop becoming whatever we’re supposed to be, before it even happens.”

There was a long pause but for once Sansa didn’t feel nervous to hear the answer. No matter what, she’d laid it all out. Whatever happened next was out of her control.

“Well I’d have to be an absolute monster not to accept an apology like that,” Myranda finally chuckled. “Let’s get coffee tomorrow and catch up. There’s a cute little café near me that has these lemon cakes… you’ll want to die after trying them, nothing else will ever compare.”

“I love lemon cakes!” Sansa cooed.

Myranda and Sansa chatted for a few more minutes before settling on a time for lunch. When they hung up, Sansa felt a flush come to her face but it was one of joy and fulfillment. She'd never realized how good it felt to just say what you wanted, do what you wanted, damning all her fears. She felt invincible. She felt powerful. The dragon had been slain, not by any costumed hero or romantic protagonist, but by her. Stuffy, stuck-up Sansa Stark. She had slain the dragon. Two dragons in fact.

So there was only one left.

**11:57PM**

She stared at the door, off-white to match the walls, the doorknob now inches from her fingers. She was still dripping.

It was utter silliness. Madness. A flight of fancy that must have come from some evil place in her heart yet Sansa couldn’t seem to stop herself. Breaking up with Harry, helping Arya, reconciling with Myranda, this had already been a hallmark day! The perfect Beach Day!

But she wanted more.

The apartment was quiet now, her every step creaking on the wooden floor. After Val left, the rest of the party pretty much followed her in dispersing. Edric had offered to drive the rest of Arya’s friends back to their homes, but Talea, Brea, and Daena had opted to share a cab. When Serenai left with Edric, just the two of them, Arya had given Sansa an arrogant and triumphant wink.

Though the bigger surprise had been Jeyne.

“Do you think it’s crazy?” She’d asked Sansa privately. “I mean, I texted Theon and he said it was alright with him but… I’ve never been with a girl. I’m really nervous.”

Sansa had glanced over at Dany, kissing Jon goodnight and saying something to him. Apparently, Dany had a weakness for “girl virgins,” Jon had explained. Not female virgins, but girls who had never been with another girl before. As soon as Jeyne had mentioned always being curious… well… Dany had smelled the blood on the water.

“Jeyne, you came here to have a little fun on your school break, right?” Sansa had reasoned. “If I was going to be with a girl, Dany would be my first choice, hands down.”

Sansa’s old friend seemed reassured by that. “You’re right, you’re right. We’re young and dumb and… you only live once right?”

Those words echoed through Sansa’s mind as she stared even longer at the door. The wood was older than the paint job. She could see now that there were some chips and peels that should really be sanded over. The doorknob was dented. A hundred other insignificant details passed through Sansa’s mind until she ran out of things to stall with.

It was time to be brave.

Opening Jon’s door, Sansa was mildly disappointed by what she saw.

Once when Sansa had walked into Jon’s room without knocking, she had caught him eating Dany out from behind, the beautiful silver-haired temptress standing on her tip-toes as she leaned over his desk, almost sitting on Jon’s chin as he devoured her. Another time she came home and Jon’s door was open, Wylla holding onto the pull-up bar that Jon had affixed to his door frame so she could hang her body at the perfect height for his furiously thrusting hips. Even Jon just coming out of his bedroom, naked but for a pair of skintight briefs after a hard workout in his room, had once been enough to scandalize Sansa.

So to see Stupid Sexy Jon Snow sitting in his desk chair, rounded glasses on as he read a book, was a bit underwhelming. He was shirtless, per usual, but he was also wearing a baggy pair of basketball shorts that left more than enough to the imagination.

He looked so ordinary.

“Sansa?” Jon asked, closing his book and then blushing when he saw her. “What are you- um, what are you doing?”

She smiled and brushed a few wet strands of hair out of her face. Other than the fluffy pink towel she had wrapped around her chest, she was naked. A few drops of water fell to Jon’s carpeted floor, the course material feeling pleasant against her bare feet. Though she had taken a hot shower, Sansa felt somehow hotter in Jon’s room, the air thick with humidity.

“It really is kind of mean that Arya and I get all the fans,” Sansa remarked, avoiding Jon’s eyes. “Your room is probably the warmest in the whole building.”

“I- um, I manage,” Jon croaked.

“Daenerys is a good sport for dealing with it,” Sansa continued, moving further into the room, into the heat, into that smell that could only be described as Jon. “Passing up that penthouse she’s renting to sleep over in this hot box… she must really want to be with you.”

Jon only swallowed and nodded.

“Are you lonely that she’s not here?” Sansa asked, her tone as innocent as possible.

“Not really,” Jon chuckled though the smile vanished when he saw how serious Sansa was being. “I mean, Dany is Dany. I’m sure she and Jeyne are having a good time.”

“Leaving just us behind.”

Sansa’s words lingered between them. She felt a bead of sweat on her temple that wasn’t from the heat. Part of her just wanted to drop the towel and tell him to take her. She knew if she did, Jon would probably lose control and just finally, epically, give her what she wanted. A prouder part of Sansa wanted to seduce him into breaking first, though she hadn’t the faintest idea how. She decided to go for something obvious, adjusting her towel and “accidentally” letting it slip for a moment, her nipple exposed to the open air before she re-wrapped it. Jon had noticed.

Sansa glanced over at his alarm clock and saw that it was almost midnight. Somehow in her mind, she knew if she didn’t act now, the spell of Beach Day courage would fade away. Maddeningly, Jon was still silent so Sansa took another step forward. When she reached behind her and closed his door, she made sure to hold eye contact when she flipped the lock. The audible click made Jon look even more nervous.

She wanted him. Pure and simple. Over the past six months, Sansa had come up with every reason for why this could never happen, had gathered those reasons together to forge a shield against any perverse thoughts or excuses. Jon Snow was her brother in some respects, her roommate in all respects, and a fragile person above all.

Yet nonetheless she wanted him.

“I was sorry to hear about you and Harry,” Jon said, attempting to break through the silence.

“It’s alright. I finally decided that I wanted something better,” Sansa shrugged, feeling her breasts peek out a bit more with the gesture. “Sometimes you have to go after what you want, you know? Damn the consequences.”

“A lesson Arya took to heart,” Jon smiled, looking both impressed and maybe anxious. “Something I never could have taught her. See? I was always right. Arya needed her sister here.”

“Sometimes the thing we need most is right in front of us.” Sansa moved closer, shivering despite the heat of the room.

“Sansa... what are you doing?” Jon finally asked.

She took another step closer, now only a hand’s width away from him. Jon’s legs were almost brushing against hers. His hands were on the sides of his chair, gripping the armrests with so much force that his forearms were shaking.

“Sansa?”

“I need you Jon…”

Sansa lifted her chin and tilted her head, eying him carefully with her most practiced pout so he wouldn’t see how nervous she really was. She pressed one leg forward, showing off the skin of her thigh through the split in her towel. Jon’s eyes did flick down for a second, and Sansa let that thrill give her confidence.

“…I don’t like to sleep alone.”

“W-what?” Jon mumbled, still acting the gentleman as he stared only at her face, even now when she was practically hitting him over the head with her body.

“Arya went home with Gendry, so I’m all alone in our room,” Sansa said, her voice like the course drag of a zipper over lace. “You’re all alone in here too… so I thought…”

“You want to sleep in here?” Jon asked, his nervousness slowly being replaced by an amused bewilderment. “Are you sure you can handle that?”

_”Is he… teasing me?”_ Sansa wondered. _”Or is he trying to get me to chicken out?”_

Jon stood and walked over to his bed, shedding his shorts and underwear in one quick motion. Sansa only had a few moments of seeing that wide, beautiful back with those corded muscles and those little lower back dimples that she wanted to lick blueberries out of. That round and strong butt that she’d stared at so often was gloriously nude for a flash before Jon shuffled into his bed and pulled the sheets over his lower half. He removed his glasses and put them on his nightstand and then brushed his hand through his hair like a fucking supermodel. He lifted one arm up, showing her his tricep as he held onto the headboard behind him, his other hand lifting the sheet up for her.

For her spot on the bed.

Before she could rush over and join him though, Sansa spotted something familiar on Jon’s desk. She picked up the book he had been reading and realized that it was one she was familiar with. One of her recent favorites actually.

“When did you get this?” Sansa asked, forgetting for a moment what was about to happen.

“What?” Jon asked, moving from his spot to look at what Sansa was holding. “Oh yeah, Poems of Maidenpool. I got it a couple weeks ago. It’s really interesting. You can see Florian’s writing style changing over time throughout the book, signifying how he becomes more of a true knight. It’s very well-crafted.”

“I recommended this to Harry,” Sansa said. “I was raving about it for weeks, I couldn’t get over it. You bought it? For yourself?”

Jon shrugged. “You kept recommending it, so…”

Sansa tossed the book aside and sprinted into his bed. She fucking needed to touch him. Now.

She flicked her towel off but dived under the sheets before she showed anything off to Jon. She started by pressing as much of her skin against him as she could. His legs intertangled with hers, her fingers scratched over his shoulders, gripping his hips, stroking his chest. She felt him grab her ass but not in a sexual way. It was more… possessive. Sansa had never wanted to be possessed in such a way before.

His grip moved up her back, over her neck, through her wet hair. They were touching and rubbing each other like mad, thighs on knees, stomachs on chests, like at any moment they might catch fire and the only thing stopping them was each other.

He was hard between her legs and for a moment Sansa almost did it, almost begged him to lie down so she could ride him like she’d dreamed. Like she’d heard countless girls do over and over and over and never been left disappointed. He was hard and warm and almost perfect.

Instead Sansa turned Jon over, spooning him from behind. She ran her hands over his chest and around his middle, like she’d done that morning on the bike, except now her fingers felt manic and his skin felt amazing. She ran her tongue over his spine and he tasted like liquid sunlight. She couldn’t get over how hard some parts of his body were when his skin was so soft and his hair smelled like angels. It felt even better against her lips.

Jon groaned at her touches and she made an embarrassing sound into his neck when she felt his hand run over her forearm, pressing her palm to his lips so he could lay hot, wet kisses down her wrist. She rubbed her legs together to stop the tingling there. Anything to stop the tingling there. Sansa knew if Jon felt how wet she was she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

“This is what I want,” Sansa whispered. “I want to feel you. I want to feel.”

“But we shouldn’t… you’re different Sansa.”

“What?” Sansa felt like she was going mad, and yet still Jon was somehow fighting it? “Why not?”

“Sansa, if we have sex-”

“It’s not sex I want, Jon!” Sansa interrupted, blushing like mad into his back. “It’s not innocent either, I know, but I can’t explain it. Please Jon, I just… I need your help. It feels like I’m going to burst out of my skin at any moment but when I touch you, the fire starts to feel... controlled.”

Her frustration was only growing. Sansa knew now that this is how she had wanted Beach Day to end from the moment she and Jon shared that sunlit walk. She had shed some old part of herself then that she didn’t realize she’d never let go. Her body ached but more than that, she was tired. Bone tired. She just wanted to surrender but she didn’t know how or to what. She didn’t understand it. Was it Jon? Was it just sex? Could this really just be sex? If it wasn’t, what was it?

“I think I understand,” Jon answered, as if reading her thoughts. “I think I know what you want.”

“What?” Sansa almost cried. “You do?”

“Satisfaction.”

Jon turned over, gripping her close by her lower back. His hand trailed down, cupping her right asscheek and pulling her open slightly, exposing her sex to the air. It made Sansa’s vision swim with sparks and inky blackness. His other hand tickled up her spine in a way that almost felt like an orgasm but not quite before resting below her shoulder blades. It was a sturdy hold yet not forceful. Sexual yet almost nurturing. She felt like a little girl. She felt like a woman. She felt how hot and hard he was between her legs.

Then Jon pressed her sex against his thigh without warning, tickling his finger over her ribs as her clit scraped against the rough skin of his leg. It was simple. Just a stroke and a tickle that only lasted a few seconds. He brushed her against his body a few more times, just like that, and then on the last stroke, when it felt like she would go mad if he didn't do something different, something harder, he brushed a thumb over her nipple and licked the shell of her ear.

And she detonated.

Too focused on coming down from her high, she didn't really notice as Jon let her go, the lack of him making Sansa curl into a fetal position. He stopped touching her, stopped smelling her, stopped holding her. After her breathing finally calmed, Jon pecked Sansa on the forehead and rolled her over so he was spooning her. His arms wrapped around her chest and his legs pressed against hers. His cock was a red hot line against her back. Eventually she felt his breathing slow and Jon was snoozing, his grip on her body still possesive even in slumber.

Sansa had never slept better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify for the perverts, Jon and Sansa did not have intercourse.


	8. Chapter 8 - Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tries to give Sansa a fantasy, but she ruins it with reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting on this one. I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sansa leaned against the door after it shut, dropping her keys to the floor and letting out a long breath of exhaustion. After a full day of classes, more photo sessions with Myranda, and a stressful afternoon interview, Sansa wanted nothing more than to lay down on the couch, smoke a bowl with Arya, and watch some crappy horror movies on Netflix.  
   
“Sansa?” Jon’s voice was distant.  
   
“Where are you?” Sansa looked up at the ceiling as she slipped off her mint-green stilettos.  
   
“I’m on the roof! Where are you?”  
   
“I’m in the living room!” Sansa shouted, wiggling her toes to get some feeling back into them.  
   
“Um… maybe you could come up to the roof?”  
   
“Is there some reason you can’t come down to me?” Sansa teased as she reached into the sleeve of her ruffled cream blouse to unhook and then toss away her bra.  
   
“Sansa don’t be cheeky.”  
   
She giggled. Just that morning she had accused Jon of being cheeky in the shower, to his great offense. Her plan had been to ditch the tight, black skinny jeans and lounge around free of material confinement on her thighs, but the roof was a little draftier, so Sansa left them on as she started the climb up.  
   
_”This better be good,”_ she thought as she pressed her bare foot onto the first cold ladder rung.  
   
Jon Snow did not disappoint.  
   
Wearing a pair of dark slacks, the cuffs rolled up past his ankles, and a navy-blue button-down, Jon grinned as he stepped aside to reveal a large copper kettle-tub under a string of fairy lights hanging from two plastic golf flags. It was sitting on top of some sort of metal frame that looked kind of like a grill, a small patch of lit coals underneath. As she stepped closer, Sansa saw that the water inside was bubbling, opaque in color, scents of lavender, honey, and even cinnamon crème hitting her nose.  
   
“What is this?  
   
“A bathtub.” Jon smiled.  
   
“But I mean… why? How?”  
   
Jon walked over to the godswood garden, leaning down to pick up a bottle of buttermilk that was next to a few other empty jars and tinctures in the grass. He uncorked it and poured a long stream of white fluid into the water, releasing a thickly sweet smell into the air that made Sansa’s eyelids feel heavy. Jon stirred the bathwater with his hand.  
   
“I used the firehose to fill it up. Set up the burner underneath like a campfire.”  
   
“And this is for me?” Sansa asked with a titter, stepping closer to Jon so she could brush a strand of dark hair away from his face and over his ear.  
   
“I know how much you’ve missed hot baths since you came back from Winterfell, and since our shower doesn’t have a tub, I thought-”  
   
His explanation was interrupted by Sansa’s tongue jamming into his mouth, tasting and touching every part of that delicious smile, those devilish lips, swallowing his delighted laughs. She gripped him lightly by the hair, causing Jon to groan. As she unbuttoned his shirt, Jon’s hands roamed up her spine under her blouse. Her kisses moved from his lips and down his neck, then over his chest, lingering on a nipple before Jon pushed her back and finished stripping.  
   
“Mind if I join you in there?” Jon growled as he unzipped his fly.  
   
Sansa answered his question by lifting her blouse over her head, her breasts feeling tight and needy when they became exposed to the cold open air. She peeled her jeans off her hips and down her legs, leaving her naked but her lacey purple underwear. Jon never lifted his eyes from hers yet she couldn’t help but let her gaze tick down to his chest, once again feeling herself drool at the sight of him.  
   
She was about to peel her underwear off but Jon pressed a hand over hers when she tried. He stepped forward, his manhood growing between them, his breath shaky over her face. He hooked a thumb on each side of her hips and pulled them down, but only to her thighs. The tight material kept Sansa’s legs pinched together, but she saw the merits of it when Jon’s hand slid down.  
   
He pulled her open with two fingers, slowly exposing her lips and the wetness there. When her hips pitched forward, Sansa realized her thighs were pinching her clit, though with very soft pressure. It was a gentle buzz of pleasure as Jon moved his thumbs in circles over her clit, pushing and rubbing her lips at the same time to create more wetness. She gripped Jon’s biceps and her eyelids fluttered when she felt the muscles there, hard and unrelenting.  
   
Sansa shuddered before giggling again. “Naughty boy. Doing this to your adoptive sister. Have you no shame?”  
   
“I did, once.” Jon’s tone was comically villainous. “Then I saw that body of yours. Talk about shameless. It’s like you were built to be fucked little lady.”  
   
He followed his words with action, tearing Sansa’s underwear so hard that her thighs turned as bright red as her face. The sound of fabric ripping always made Sansa’s heart flutter in both fear and longing.  
   
It all just felt so good!  
   
_"Jon always makes it feel good."_  
   
Even after weeks of being intimate, Sansa still felt a desperate need for Jon Snow whenever she saw him. If anything, it had gotten worse.  
   
When they’d slept together on Beach Day, they didn’t talk about what happened the next morning, didn’t deal with the situation or any possible feelings. Possible consequences. The whole situation started to feel confusing and messy. Sansa had thanked the gods that she and Arya would have two weeks away from San Francisco. Only the holidays could effectively clear her head of quiet doubts and nattering fears.  
   
When they flew back after New Year’s, Sansa was ready to address it but Jon didn’t seem as willing. He treated her the same, gentle if a bit overprotective, and it made her confidence waver. Was it just some joke? Had it meant nothing to Jon? Was she so easy to ignore? She wondered if maybe the whole thing had been some dumb fluke. A mistake or worse.  
   
Until it happened again.  
   
She stood by her claim that she was acting in total innocence. Truly. Arya was sleeping over at Gendry’s again, and Sansa had heard a noise outside the window. She became frightened. Maybe a murderer was coming into their apartment in the dead of night to slit her throat or something. It was a matter of safety quite honestly. And Jon was a cop, sort of, after all.  
   
In her panic she didn’t even think to put clothes on. When she shook Jon awake, Sansa had been wearing a thong borrowed from Arya (laundry day) and a tank top that hadn’t been able to contain her breasts since high school.  
   
Jon had been sleeping on his stomach, his arms messily wrapped around a pillow above his head. The sheet shifted as he rolled over to reveal he was spectacularly naked and promisingly hard.  
   
“What took you so long?” He’d whispered. It was the only thing either of them said for hours.  
   
She’d passed out around 3 AM after a particularly explosive release, only to awaken with a gasp to Jon strumming her clit between the second and third knuckle of his middle finger, the pad of his fingertip squirming inside her with just the right amount of pressure to make her leg shake. Sansa bit his chest to keep from screaming and Jon repaid her with a harsh, loud trio of spanks. Once she started coming down, Jon caressed her neck and shoulders and pressed soft, loving kisses on her forehead. It felt like he was comforting her after some sort of harrowing ordeal.  
   
And so began Sansa Stark’s sexual awakening.  
   
Jon fingered her every night, except on nights where he let Sansa rub herself against his body. She never really worried about sleeping anymore. Jon was like a sleeping pill, but instead of green capsules that made her drowsy, he just knocked her out with his hands or his tongue. Sometimes toys. Every time she woke up the next day, she’d felt like she ran twenty miles but somehow wasn’t sore. Everywhere else. And that was just the nights. 

During the daytimes Jon got really creative.  
   
He had eaten her out in the living room while she watched an X-rated movie (her orgasm coinciding with the female protagonist), rimmed her ass in the kitchen while she ate breakfast (the only thing that made pancakes sweeter than syrup was butt-play it seemed), and even pressed a vibrator to her slit while she was on the phone with the bank (she’d vowed to check her balance online next time).  
   
More than just blowing her top off though, Jon also tried to teach her things. He had shown her how to hold off an orgasm to make it feel ten times better later and how to make one orgasm’s afterglow lead to another orgasm’s beginning. Jon had even taught Sansa how to make her body feel mind-blowingly good without having an actual bodily orgasm. That might have been Sansa’s favorite lesson. Jon had moved with slow and careful grace the whole time, visibly restraining himself. She liked it when Jon got all sweaty and tense like that.  
   
One night when Jon had to work a double-shift, leaving Sansa alone for the first time since they’d started, she spent hours in her bed feeling itchy and uncomfortable. She couldn’t stop herself from getting wet. Sansa realized she’d forgotten how to fall asleep without Jon knocking her unconscious from explosive pleasure. Even when using the lessons Jon had shown her, Sansa felt like the pleasure she gave herself was lacking in comparison. She didn’t sleep a wink that night.  
   
_”I’m addicted to him,”_ Sansa had realized with aroused horror. _”My body is looking for its fix.”_  
   
They couldn’t be together whenever they wanted though. Sansa didn’t want Arya to know, at least for now, so they always had to be careful. Smart. Still, they found their times. Whenever Arya stayed out late and left them home alone, Jon and Sansa would continue exploring each other’s bodies.  
   
Though it seemed their focus was mostly on Sansa’s body as Jon never let her return the favor. She could tell he liked it when she touched his chest, kissed his stomach, his neck, but he always stopped her when she reached for his manhood. She’d wanted to question him on that more than once, but whenever she tried, Jon would go down on her and show her how magical his mouth could make her feel. Once she’d stopped him from moving below the belt, locking him in her arms, so instead Jon showed her how to orgasm from nipple-play alone. She’d stopped bothering him about it after that.  
   
But better than Jon’s fingers or his mouth or even his ridiculously gorgeous body, was sleeping with him. Sansa had always enjoyed cuddling, but she was apparently a casual fan to Jon’s master class. Every night they were together she either spooned him or let him lay on his back while she slept with her head on his chest, his arm wrapped protectively over her back. It felt loving. It felt hot. It felt amazing.  
   
Jon was amazing.  
   
Groaning in delight as he lowered himself into the bath, Jon gave her a bold smile. He took her hand and helped her step inside with him. The scolding, scented water caressed her legs, then her thighs, then her back, causing Sansa to moan shamelessly.  
   
They were a shifting pile of limbs for a moment but eventually Jon had his arms resting on the edge of the tub, creating a nice barrier of skin and muscles for Sansa to lay her back against. She shimmied her bottom a little on Jon’s lap and he gave a warning groan that made her feel sexy.  
   
They enjoyed the warm, blissful silence for a good long while before Sansa’s curiosity got the best of her.  
   
“How did you get this up here?”  
   
She could feel Jon’s voice vibrate in his chest as he spoke. “The tub itself is actually pretty light. The coals and burners were the tough part, but I figured it out.”  
   
“And you just wanted to brighten up my day?” Sansa asked, her tone light even as she felt vulnerable asking.  
   
“Well, I know you had that job interview today. So, I figured, if you got it, we could celebrate. If you didn’t, well, maybe I could help you forget your troubles.”  
   
_”Sometimes you make me forget my name,”_ Sansa thought with a little shimmy.  
   
“So?” Jon asked. “Did you get the job?”  
   
Sansa sighed. “I think so.”  
   
“Really? That’s great news!” Jon cheered with a little splash. “Isn’t it?”  
   
She still wasn’t sure. Alongside her new sexual horizons with Jon, Sansa’s modeling horizons had been on the rise. Myranda was responsible for most of it, encouraging Sansa to do some fit modeling for some local seamstresses along with their regular fun photo sessions. Sansa had even tried art modeling, which included standing naked in front of a dozen strangers once a week as they sketched her. Once such a thing would have given her hives from embarrassment but after the first time, Sansa was surprised by how quickly she became accustomed to it.  
   
The other career push came from her first, real-life modeling gig. After Lady Shella’s had been such a hit, an energy drink start-up, “Shade of the Evening” had reached out to Sansa to become their Social Media spokesperson. It was pitched as being an energy drink for the club, rehydrating you after a night of dancing and drinking, so for the first time Sansa had had to record video, dancing in slinky dresses to no music while pretending to drink sugar water. Instead of Arya holding the camera, she’d gone to an actual studio where an actual art professional named Satin directed her face and body. The pay was okay. Myranda had called it a “baby model” gig.  
   
But the interview today was the real deal. Mockingbird was a legitimate modeling agency that took young talent and shaped them into the future sex symbols of tomorrow. A few girls who were part of the agency had even gone on to do Red Keep Maiden Swimsuit Shows. If Sansa was serious about modeling, this was an agency that could make things happen.  
   
“I just don’t know if I want to be a model,” Sansa explained as she ran a finger over Jon’s forearm. “I mean, I’m bored of school, but is that enough of a reason to change my whole life? My future career options? Mockingbird would be a full-time job. School would definitely be delayed. I might even need to take a deferment.”  
   
Jon moved his hands from around the tub and began massaging Sansa’s neck, dipping down between her shoulder blades occasionally. His hands caused Sansa to groan and close her eyes, her body melting into the fragrant water. On an impulse, she pushed Jon’s hands away but then pulled them under her armpits, placing his palms over her breasts. Jon didn’t need another hint. At first he gripped her harshly, so tight that skin spilled out from between his fingers, but then he lightened his touch and his movements were softer. She made another embarrassing sound. The sudden change from tight near-pain to nurturing petting had caused a shocking sensation in her breasts.  
   
“I’m happy with my life right now,” Sansa continued, her voice deeper and throaty as Jon kept up the perfect amount of pressure. “Why mess with that, you know?”  
   
“I suppose.”  
   
Sansa could hear his doubt. “Unless you have thoughts to offer?”  
   
“It’s your life,” Jon dodged.  
   
He let go of her breasts as she turned to look at him. Sansa reached up and gently rubbed his cheek, the scratching from his 5 o’clock shadow feeling pleasant against her palm. Jon leaned down and kissed her softly, and Sansa reached another hand around his shoulder to keep him close.  
   
Her breasts started pressing against Jon’s chest, the hair feeling coarse against her nipples. When the kiss broke, a strand of saliva was still connecting their lips and Sansa instinctively kissed him again, pushing herself harder into his body. She heard his back bump against the rim of the tub and Sansa twisted herself to her knees.  
   
She was kneeling over Jon now, kissing downward as she tilted his head back further. Whenever Jon kissed her like that it made her feel dizzy in the most delicious way, so she hoped the same would happen to him. She stroked her fingers over his shoulders and then down to his nipples, rubbing them in soft circles like he did for her. Sansa was bursting with a strange pride to hear his moans.  
   
When she pulled back from the kiss, Jon looked close to passing out.  
   
“Just tell me what you’re thinking Jon,” Sansa whispered in her neediest voice, feeling Jon’s cock twitch next to her leg. “Maybe I’ll like it.”  
   
Jon audibly gulped before speaking. “I agree. You should turn down Mockingbird.”  
   
“Oh,” Sansa said, unable to hide her surprise. “I thought you were a supporter of my modeling aspirations?”  
   
“I am, I am!” Jon said quickly, gripping her by the waist and pressing soft, apologetic kisses to her neck. “I just don’t know if Mockingbird is the right fit for you.”  
   
“Right fit?” Sansa chuckled. “They’re one of the biggest agencies on the West Coast. Some of their clients, even you would recognize them Jon.”  
   
“Okay, okay, so they’re a big deal. But so are you.” Jon pressed his hands against her back until she straightened her spine, thrusting her chest out more. “I just meant, maybe you don’t need them.”  
   
“Careful, you’ll give me a big head,” Sansa joked before gasping as Jon started running his tongue from between her breasts, down to her navel, touching the opening of her bellybutton with soft pressure until she batted his head away.  
   
“Leave that!”  
   
“The bath is working. You taste like an ice cream cone.” Jon ran his tongue lewdly between her hips and Sansa had to grip the back of his head for support. “Hmm… you should taste yourself…”  
   
“Stop it!” Sansa panted, pushing Jon back with a loud thump on the copper edge. “You’re trying to distract me with your sexiness!”  
   
Jon slicked some hair off his face and smiled. “I like it when you get bossy.”  
   
Sansa harrumphed before leaning down and biting Jon’s neck, causing him to shout in displeasure. When he gripped her arms, she got confusingly excited until he pushed her back onto her butt. She drifted to the opposite end of the tub and pouted, feigning distaste at his roughness.  
   
“What do you mean I don’t need them? They’re a professional modeling agency Jon, it would be a huge opportunity for me.”  
   
He shrugged and bounced his head from shoulder to shoulder for a few moments, carefully considering his answer. Sansa liked that. Most guys, she would have thought they were stalling to build up a lie, but Jon never lied. He just liked to make sure he was as clear with his feelings as possible.  
   
“You said Mockingbird does mostly men’s magazines. Commercials, alcohol brands, stuff like that, right?”  
   
Sansa nodded. It was another reason why she was unsure of starting any modeling career, let alone one with Mockingbird. The opportunity was great, and it was very flattering that they had reached out, but Sansa still struggled with the idea of showing off her body to the public.  
   
When she wore a flattering dress or skirt, even a racier piece that showed off more skin, that was different. Yes, some could look at Myranda’s photoshoots and find something sexual about the way Sansa looked… but there was artistry there too. Purpose. Lines. She worked to highlight the clothing, the fit. An effect. Myranda worked to evoke different lightings and moods from Sansa’s face, her body language, her eyes. There was always a greater context.  
   
Mockingbird would probably get Sansa into some lingerie ad as fast as possible. It was inevitable that they'd put her in some sexist beer commercial where she smiled in a bikini while a man said something dumb about hops. That type of modeling would be about sex appeal only. Which was fine, but...  
   
“It just doesn’t feel like you,” Jon continued. “You care about… I don’t know, color patterns and fabric cuts and which designers are doing this thing or which color is in season in this country. You’re a fashion model Sansa. You belong on the walkway.”  
   
Sansa blushed. “It’s runway.”  
   
“Whatever. My point is, this agency won’t help with that.”  
   
“But maybe this is what I’m good at,” Sansa rebutted. “Jon, I’m tall for a girl, but fashion models are, like, taller than you. They need to be really skinny and a little flat-chested, like Arya except less muscular.”  
   
To prove her point Sansa palmed her breasts, lifting and squeezing a little like she did whenever she looked in the mirror and faced her body image issues. Her breasts were slightly too big for her frame, which had made her very popular in high school, but already at 20 Sansa could see some sag. Some stretch marks. Her skin was translucent around her nipples and showed harsh, blue veins.  
   
“Maybe I don’t really have the body for fashion modeling,” Sansa explained, looking at Jon as his eyes moved up from her breasts to her face. “Maybe this is the smart move for me. I like what’s behind Door Number 1, so why bother with Door Number 2?.”  
   
“I don’t accept that,” Jon said as he shook his head. “It’s okay to want more for yourself Sansa.”  
   
Sansa was getting irritated. “Look, fashion models can’t have fupas, okay? And I refuse to stop eating In-N-Out, I can’t go back to my pre In-N-Out life.”  
   
Jon frowned and raised an eyebrow. Sansa was about to explain why she loved high-waisted fashion so much for exactly that reason, when Jon reached forward to press his hand to her belly. Sansa felt aroused but also mortified. His hand started fiddling with the skin there, pulling on the plump in question, and Sansa was filled with a desire to punch Jon in the face. Before she could explode with offense however, Jon’s hand trailed down further.  
   
“O-oh.”  
   
“Sansa, that’s ridiculous,” Jon chuckled, his lips appearing like a ghost by her ear. “Every woman has a layer of tissue here to protect their uterus. It’s normal.”  
   
“But I-”  
   
Jon smothered her protest with a kiss, his finger slowly inching up and down over her opening, causing her to swell. Suddenly she couldn’t care less what they were talking about.  
   
“Listen to your big brother,” Jon purred. Sansa shivered.  
   
“If you were a good big brother, you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t- uh!” She gasped and pressed his hand down harder, cluing Jon in to start inching a finger inside. “You wouldn’t be touching me like this. You know I have a boyfriend, uh, stupid.”  
   
“Boyfriend?” Jon growled, pretending at playful jealousy. “You have a boyfriend now? Does he touch you?”  
   
“S-somet-times…” Sansa was already so close.  
   
“Are you still a virgin sweetheart?” Jon asked, causing Sansa to nod insistently. “I don’t know, I’d better check to be sure.”  
   
Jon lowered himself in the water then, confusing Sansa slightly until she felt his beard scratching against the inside of her thigh. Her eyes definitely crossed then. Somehow the water enhanced some of the slippery sensations that Jon’s mouth gave her, and the cloying floral smell of the bathwater made her body feel thick and heavy. She came slowly, like a leak that grew to a stream and then became a torrent. When Jon came back up, his hair whipped a little water into Sansa’s eyes but she was past the point of caring.  
   
“I know you… usually like two at a time… but I was… running out of air.”  
   
“You’re forgiven,” Sansa gasped. “You surprised me with the brother-sister stuff.”  
   
Jon’s chuckle was a little too arrogant. “I know you like it.”  
   
“You know nothing Jon Snow,” Sansa protested. “And I was only curious that one time.”  
   
“And came harder than a vegetarian at Oktoberfest,” Jon responded.  
   
“Must everything you say be so clever?” She teased.  
   
“Maybe I didn’t do it for you. Maybe I like it too.”  
   
Sansa gave an exaggerated sigh as she turned and laid back against Jon’s chest again, accepting the way he wrapped his arms around her, his meaty biceps crossing over her chest.  
   
“I suppose we must both live in sin then.”  
   
They lounged in naked silence for a while longer as the water started to cool and then become tepid. Jon offered to get out and stoke up his little jerry-rigged burner, but Sansa was starting to feel pruned. They got out of the tub and dried off, idly chatting about the new book Jon was reading, “Which Artys Arryn?” and Sansa thought, for a dry non-fiction book, it actually sounded kind of interesting, at least the way Jon described it. He offered to loan it to Sansa when he was done.  
   
Jon had to spend a few minutes draining the water and gathering up his tub toys (“Must you call them that?”), so Sansa sat on the grass in her panties and blouse, watching him work. Jon had redonned his pants but worked shirtless, Sansa admiring again at how graceful Stupid Sexy Jon Snow could be.  
   
It wasn’t just his movements though. It was his face too. She noticed that Jon’s Eagle scar over his eye would often twitch when he was stressed, and Jon would only smirk when he was thinking something perverted. The rest of the time his smiles were always small, barely there, yet somehow illuminating his face like a single candle in the darkness. His eyes, which had always seemed shady and suspicious when they were younger, had a soft, grey color that made Sansa think of reading romance novels on a cold rainy day.  
   
Jon was definitely not conventionally handsome, but his long face had grown to become pleasantly sharp and unquestioningly masculine. When he became angry, that same soft warmth of his allure could become cold and shadowed, dark and vicious. Mysterious. Obsessive. Tempting.  
   
And based on the size of his bulge, Sansa just couldn’t believe Arya or Val’s claims. Jon just had to be, as Myranda would say, packing something substantial below the belt.  
   
_”Ugh, he’s made me such a pervert.”_  
   
“Any plans for tonight?” Sansa asked once they climbed back into the living room. “I think Daenerys said something about a new bar she wanted to go to the last time I saw her.” Sansa realized that was over a month ago.  
   
Jon sighed. “Daenerys and I… we’re not…”  
   
“Oh no, did you break up?” Sansa asked, one hand already at Jon’s shoulder to reassure him.  
   
“No, I mean, we weren’t really together, but no.” Jon seemed startled by what he’d said. “I mean, we aren’t together. We’re still seeing each other.”

“Right. Good.” Sansa flicked a lock of hair out of her face in a lighthearted sigh of relief. “Maybe she wants to come hang out? I’m down for a night of Three’s Company.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Daenerys would love that.”

“Yeah…” Sansa let that hang for a moment. “I thought that’s why you like her?”

“It’s complicated, okay?”  
   
“Hold on.”  
   
Sansa sat Jon down on the couch and held a finger to his lips before holding that finger up, indicating that Jon wait. 

She went to her room and changed into pajamas, a white polka-dot cami that was so soft it felt like wearing nothing at all, a white bow between her breasts. She completed the outfit with cheeky matching shorts that had lacey ruffles on the edges. Lady Shella’s sold it as regular sleepwear, so Sansa wore it as such, even though her mother would have called it lingerie.  
   
When she came back to the living room, Jon was where she left him. His eyes bugged out a bit when he saw her, and his stupor only grew when Sansa got on both knees next to him, wrapping an arm around his neck so she could scratch her nails through his hair. Her other hand snaked between the buttons of his shirt to rub his chest.  
   
“Okay, go ahead.”  
   
“Ahead with what?” Jon rumbled, his eyes trying so hard not to look at her cleavage that they seemed to almost vibrate in his head for a moment.  
   
“Tell me your troubles Jon,” Sansa said, her voice drizzled with innocence. “You helped me realize some things about Harry when I needed it. Let me help you.”  
   
“There aren’t troubles. Daenerys isn’t doing anything wrong, she just…” Jon paused, his eyes closed as he became lost in thought, or maybe he was being soothed by Sansa’s touch. She liked to think it was that.  
   
“She wants something from me that I can’t give her.” Jon blurted.  
   
“What do you mean?” Sansa asked.  
   
Jon seemed to struggle with something, and when he finally told her, his hand was covering his mouth, like he was guarding Sansa from having to feel him breathe the offensive words on her skin.  
   
“She wants to know about my dad.”  
   
“Oh. Oh!” Sansa was confused at first thinking of Father, until she realized what Jon meant. Not Eddard Stark, but Jon’s biological father. 

_”Not focusing on that.”_

“Does she know you’ve never met him?”  
   
“Yes, and that’s the point,” Jon explained. “She says the only way we can move forward is by understanding our past. Otherwise we’ll always be drawn back to it, and if we look back we’re lost.”  
   
“That certainly sounds like Daenerys. Ominous yet inspiring.”  
   
Jon chuckled, giving a pleasured sigh when Sansa pressed her thumb on the corner of his lips, marking that smile.  
   
“She also keeps asking about meeting Catelyn and my friends and…” Jon’s eye ticked to hers for a second, in a way that made her nervous.  
   
“And what?”  
   
“And moving in together.”  
   
Sansa felt her eyes bulge now, but she wanted to be careful and not to say the wrong thing. Part of her thought it would be sweet and nice if Jon and Dany moved in together. A monumental part of her felt only misery at the thought of going without her late-night petting sessions. Or her midday petting sessions. Or the morning showers.  
   
What would she do without Jon?  
   
Sansa eventually managed, “Well that’s normal. Maybe a little soon, but normal.”  
   
“I just never imagined that for me and Dany.”  
   
“What did you imagine?” Sansa asked. “Did you think it would be hot sex and partying for the rest of your lives? You’re almost too old for such shenanigans at any rate Jon Snow.”

“No, I know, I guess I just didn’t realize that that was what Dany wanted,” Jon admitted. “If I had known…”  
   
“… then maybe you wouldn’t have gotten together?”  
   
Jon’s lack of answer was all the answer Sansa needed.  
   
“What do you want Jon?”  
   
They both seemed to realize how close they were sitting now. Sansa’s breasts were sliding around Jon’s arm, her face hovering over his neck, her legs snaking around his hip. Sansa realized it was the same position they were in when Jon had felt her up on Beach Day, on the bench by the bumper cars. Only this time Jon could feel how boiling hot Sansa’s body felt, and she didn’t need to restrain herself.  
   
Jon’s hand brushed over Sansa’s breast, his fingers feeling like they’d been dipped in warm oil as he brushed the silky material over her nipple. Sansa realized that Jon was seducing her without doing anything. It was like his body was screaming with violent, disgusting, absurdly sexual malevolence yet his face was soft as a lamb. Yet which was the real Jon? Which was the painted shield and which was just Jon being himself?  
   
“It doesn’t matter.”  
   
Jon slipped away from Sansa but only for a moment. Pressing a light but insistent hand on her knee, he spread her legs open and then unfolded them so her feet were flat on the floor. His chest was between her legs, and he slipped the shorts off of her in a flash. It was like a card trick. They were there, then poof. Gone.  
   
“Jon? Wait-“  
   
“Shhh… let me give you what you want Sansa.”  
   
“You don’t even know what that is!” Sansa argued, though her voice was feeble. “If you wanted to give me what I want, you’d just talk to me.”  
   
“That’s not what you want though,” Jon teased. His confident tone was annoying Sansa a bit but her body didn’t share her troubles. She was already wet and ready.  
   
“What you want, is to test the limits of your body,” Jon explained as he pressed slow, gentle kisses up her thighs. “You feel like men have used sex against you your entire life, so for the first time, you’re going to jump headfirst into the deep, dark well and see if you can slay the dragon yourself. Then maybe no man will use sex against you ever again.”  
   
_”Well I wouldn’t put it in those words exactly…”_  
   
Jon pushed deeper, and Sansa’s legs lifted up. She slipped from sitting on her butt to laying on her lower back as Jon shouldered one knee, then the other. He pressed a few wet kisses over Sansa’s opening, a lewd sucking sound filling the empty room. Usually Jon sort of… “feasted” on her, going fast, licking all over, pushing and pulling all the right places, but this time he went slow. Careful. It was almost more soothing than scintillating.  
   
“Jon… fucking hells… I… you can’t…”  
   
“Shhh… it’s okay,” Jon rumbled from between her legs, his words causing static shocks in her bottom. “Let me take care of you for a while.”  
   
“But I wanted to take care of you,” Sansa whined. “Why won’t you- ah! You talk to me?”  
   
Sansa managed to fold her leg back far enough to place her foot on Jon’s forehead, shoving him away. Jon’s back banged on the coffee table, the crash shaking them both out of the sex spell that had possessed them. 

Her foot slipped down to Jon’s chest, pinning him there. Sansa felt powerful and hot, and she held onto the feeling to try and resist Jon’s charms.  
   
“You’re always talking about my problems, my life, my relationships. We never talk about you.”  
   
“Sansa-“  
   
“And you won’t even let me touch you Jon!” Sansa shouted, giving an exasperated laugh at how ludicrous this conversation was. “I mean, do you realize that I’ve never even seen your penis? Meanwhile I should start charging your face and fingers rent since they practically live inside my vagina.”  
   
Jon barked with laughter then, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile as well.  
   
“All I’m saying is I care about you Jon,” Sansa continued after the chuckles faded. “I get it, I do. You like making girls feel good. You like fixing broken things. And maybe it’s because… I don’t know, something to do with Ygritte or your parents or not getting laid enough in high school, but you have to believe me Jon. I care about you. I want to know you. I am not just some girl-”  
   
“Of course not,” Jon interjected with a frown. “You are special to me Sansa. You and Arya…” Sansa could see that Jon was restraining himself again so Sansa tried to send him as much of her own false willpower to help him along. If she could do it, maybe Jon could do too.

And if Jon said it first, it would be easier.  
   
“You and Arya are my entire world now,” Jon explained, his blush matching Sansa’s own. “My family. My home. My small joy at the end of a long day.”  
   
“Oh Jon…” Sansa pulled her foot off his chest and reached for him. 

But he pulled back.

“And that’s why this thing we do? It can’t be about me. Not even us. If it’s just about helping you, pleasuring you, comforting you, that’s one thing. I even like when you get all fun and spontaneous and sexual.”

“What a hero you are.” Sansa tried to restrain the bite in her sarcasm.

“Haha, hey, you want a meet a guy? I know guys. We got a uh… I forget his official position but he’s like a CSI intern. Larence. He’s only a little older than you. Want to meet a guy? I’ll set you up with Larence.”

“Who the fuck is Larence?!” Sansa shouted. She scooted her bottoms back on, then scooted away from Jon, her forearms wrapped around her legs.

“I’m just saying… I’m here for you, in any and every sense, but if you want more…” Jon gestured up and away. 

He was pointing toward the door. Outside.

Other guys.  
   
“But what about something more for you?” Sansa whispered, yet the question crackled in the air. “Relationships aren’t just about giving Jon. That’s just half of it. It's about opening yourself up to… to… I don’t know. Being willing to accept a little bit for yourself.”  
   
“I can’t.” Jon looked away. “I can’t be that. Not for… not for anyone.”  
   
She didn’t know what to say. The logs in the fire finally cracked, the wood whistling like nails on a chalkboard, as shards and splinters prickled everyone’s legs, ruining the summer bonfire that blazed in her heart. 

Sansa wished Jon was back between her legs, making the world feel like marshmallows and whipped cream on pineapple mojitos. That was a better time. Why had she wandered away from that?  
   
“Poor Daenerys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and a kudos! Every time I had writer's block, a few more would come in and inspire me to get back to work. It really does help!
> 
> Also, I'm thinking of doing one-shots and drabbles in this 'verse so to speak, but with other pairings and POVs. So comment what kind of scenes or pairings you'd want to read and maybe something will inspire me!


	9. Chapter 9 - Cabin Fever (Part 1 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa meets some old faces during Spring Break and things get a little crazy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins a 3-part arc that gets quite smutty and dark. If you don't want smutty and dark and would rather make drama in the comments, don't read these next few chapters. Such comments, as I said before, will be deleted.
> 
> Part 2 and 3 will arrive shortly, I promise.
> 
> Legit though, things are gonna get very OTT in the smut area...

Sansa was greeted by high-ceilings with wooden rafters but the bed was what took up most of the floor space and her attention. It was most certainly a king-size, with comfy-looking silk sheets and intricately-carved wooden bedposts, something that just screamed money. There was an adjoining en suite bathroom and a sizeable walk-in closet, but even these dreamy touches were eclipsed completely by the computer set-up.  
   
While she wouldn’t consider herself tech-savvy, even Sansa could understand that this computer was probably powerful, it’s hard drive looking twice as large as the one that her father had used as a CEO. Three monitors were mounted to the polished, dark wood of the desk, with a plush leather-chair in front of it that looked as soft to the touch as lemon meringue.  
   
The room was dripping with little touches of golden design on every wall and in every corner. The decor bordered on the tacky side and clashed terribly with the posters of scantily-clad women and expensive foreign cars, stuck to the walls with scotch tape. For every decorative touch that Sansa admired, there were just as many hints at a juvenile lack of care for this room that made her wrinkle her nose.  
   
Her thoughts were interrupted by the abrupt and harsh slap of her ass.  
   
“Get on the bed,” he said before rushing toward the computer and waking it from sleep mode.  
   
“Yes sir,” Sansa said, trying to keep the cheek out of her voice as she rubbed at her smarting rump and hopped up onto the elevated frame. “What are you working on there, baby?”  
   
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he grunted, barely able to hide the palpable eagerness in his voice, even as he tried to sound menacing.  
   
“But honey… I’m getting lonely…” Sansa whined with her most playful baby voice, kicking off her trainers, sliding out of her slightly too-tight yoga pants, and finally pulling her Lady Shella designed knit sweater up over her head.  
   
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He had predictably turned to face her, a sneer of condescending disgust on his lips, ready to spit some hateful bile at her impatience. Instead the words faded away from him and became a dumbfounded groan, his eyes bugging out, pupils dilated, and his breath actually catching in his throat. It was kind of flattering really.  
   
Though Sansa didn’t need any speechless reaction to know she looked good. Under the comfy sweater and ordinary black leggings, was a tight, navy blue bodysuit that hugged Sansa’s every curve in the most blatant ways possible. Though it didn’t have the cute little navel cut-out that Arya’s infamous grey bodysuit did, it astonishingly accomplished the impossible by being even more scandalous with a line of slits along the sides that showed off Sansa’s ribs, all the way down to her hips. The neckline, instead of being cut around the neck as named, had a deep, plunging vee that reached quite a bit below Sansa’s cleavage. The only thing holding everything up was the halter-top choker around her neck, lifting everything up into a more perky placement.  
   
On a girl with smaller breasts, the outfit would look a little silly. On a girl with larger breasts, it might not be able to contain everything and she would be flopping everywhere. On Sansa though, it was just tight enough to keep her girls secure while also making sure that every detail of her body was visible down to the nipple. It was the kind of outfit that Sansa would have never worn in high school, definitely not at King’s Landing, and maybe even now on a regular date with a guy she liked.  
   
But this wasn’t some guy she wanted to jump into bed with. This was Joffrey.  
   
“You… you never wore that when we were dating…” Joff said, awe in his voice even as a frown started to form. “I guess you’ve finally started to slut it up without me, huh? I always figured you for a girl with daddy issues.”  
   
Sansa blinked and pushed the vomit back down to her stomach before smiling.  
   
“Well… maybe you can be my new daddy.”  
   
Joffrey’s eyes lit up as predicted, the consistent emerald green turning into a jade wildfire of lust. He turned back to his computer and typed a few more things before shutting the screen off, taking care that Sansa didn’t see what he’d been doing. Sansa didn’t have much of a chance to look anyway, as Joffrey rushed to the bed at a mad dash, banging his ankle against one of the bedposts as he climbed on top of her.  
   
His kisses were even worse than before; heated, rushed, with no idea of how to use his tongue other than to jam it in her mouth and over her top teeth. Sansa reached for the bottom of his shirt and helped it off of him, pressing her hands to his chest so she could run kisses along his collarbone.  
   
He wouldn’t have any of that though. Pushing her back, Joffrey quickly unzipped his fly and lowered his pants around his hips, revealing a lack of underwear. For some reason Sansa found that sillier than anything else and started giggling, but before Joff could spin out into a rage, Sansa wrapped her fingers around the shaft.  
   
Though he groaned and let her stroke him at first, once again Joff would not let her take control. Swiping her hand away, he grappled her hips and started turning her over, though Sansa had to tell him to let go for a moment as she got tangled in his comforter. Before she could even re-situate, he started pawing at her ass, trying to shift enough of the fabric of her bodysuit over so he could get to her opening.  
   
“Bet you’ve been missing the magnum…” Joff sneered, almost like a threat. Sansa had to literally bury her face in the sheets to hide her uncontrollable snickering.  
   
This was too easy.  
   
*****  
**8 Hours Earlier**  
   
“Oh sweet Mother that is the good stuff…”  
   
Sansa had to agree. Though Arya had obviously done more skiing, as well as coming out to the slopes at six in the morning while Sansa had slept in until noon like the gods intended, the whirlpool nonetheless made every ache and numbness in Sansa’s body come alive with sensation.  
   
“Sometimes I think this is the best part of going skiing,” Sansa said, reaching up to make sure her hair stayed in its tight top bun to keep from getting wet. “Not the skiing itself, but everything else after. The hot tub, the hot chocolate, sitting by the fireplace.”  
   
“That’s just being a lazy good-for-nothing. You can do that at home!” Arya complained before sinking below the water’s surface and then immediately coming back up a few seconds later, slicking her short brown hair from her eyes. “If we got a hot tub at home, you probably wouldn’t even leave the apartment.”  
   
_"Jon already made me a hot tub at home.” _  
  
Instead of saying that though, Sansa agreed in good humor, and soon she and Arya were discussing all the things they could do here at the ski lodge that they couldn’t do at home. That quickly turned into a conversation about what they would do for the rest of the break, though that conversation consisted mostly of Sansa suggesting ideas and Arya shooting them down without any helpful proposals of her own.  
   
But they were in a hot tub, so who cared?  
   
Enjoying her sophomore spring break with family wasn’t the “coolest” thing to do, but Sansa was glad that Jon had convinced her to come. After weeks of moping and feeling down on herself, Jon had suggested she do something fun to shake herself out of her depression spiral.  
   
Apparently, every year Jon and Val would pool their money together with other friends and coworkers to rent out a ski cabin near Lake Tahoe, as a sort of fun group vacation that none of them could normally afford on their own. This year however, Pyp and Grenn had both gotten themselves girlfriends (finally, according to Arya), Sam and Gilly had decided to instead take a trip to Braavos as a couple, and Val had gone home up north to take care of a sick family member. Jon had figured that there wouldn’t be any group ski trip this year.  
   
Until Daenerys kindly and surprisingly bought out the cabin entirely on her own dime. At first she’d implied that it was a birthday present to Jon, a romantic getaway for just the two of them, but only a few days later she and Jon suggested that Arya come along and bring Gendry. Sansa was a late addition to the trip, once Jon realized her original spring break plans.  
   
And even though staying at home and eating ice cream all week while watching Great Pentoshi Bake Off had sounded like the perfect cure to her blues, Sansa was glad that Jon had disagreed. A real vacation was just what she needed. It gave her distance from her problems, distance from her friends… and it gave her time to reassess.  
   
When she’d rejected the contract offer from Mockingbird, Sansa’s biggest anxiety was that she was making a mistake. Yes, it felt cool and rebellious to turn down so much money and security to pursue a more independent idea of her dreams, but she wasn’t foolish enough to misunderstand what she was sacrificing. It was possible that Mockingbird’s contract offer would be her one and only shot at becoming a real model.  
   
Until a week later, when a California lifestyle magazine named Maiden Faire reached out to Sansa about an opportunity. They had seen her Instagram as well as the brand-new online portfolio that Myranda had helped her create, and they had liked what they saw. They were even enthusiastic about her going to Oldtown, since their marketing team was invested in getting more college-aged readers.  
   
When their publicist called, he explained that they saw Sansa as the perfect fit to guest-edit their last spring issue of the season. Along with the normal modeling stuff was an opportunity to write the magazine’s main editorial about whatever topic she wanted. Not only would she be the centerfold model, but Sansa would be on the cover that hit newsstands across the West Coast.  
   
It was like a dream come true, validation that not only was Sansa good enough to pursue this legitimately, but that she might actually find a way to be successful at it. And all before she turned 21! She felt like her dreams were becoming more solid, more gripped by reality. The risk of moving to a new school, a new part of the country, a new career path, it was all paying off.  
   
So of course it couldn’t last.  
   
Before she could sign anything, the agency called the next day to tell her that they had decided to go with someone else. That was bad enough, but a week later Myranda found out through some digging that Maiden Faire had dropped her because of gossip that Sansa was difficult to work with, and that she had done too many risqué projects to be featured in a magazine as family-friendly as Maiden Faire. There was no explanation for how or why the rumors started, what projects she had done that were so inappropriate, no chance for anything at all. They just forgot her and moved on to the next girl.  
   
It had only been a possibility for a day, just one day, and yet Sansa felt like she’d been kicked in the gut by a horse. She felt like a silly girl who had gotten her hopes up too high, dared to dream to big, and lost everything because of it. She wanted to quit modeling. She wanted to go back to Mockingbird and beg them for a second chance. She wanted to scream into a pillow or maybe cry into it instead.  
   
Even now, the thought of that gut-wrenching rug-pull that fate had given her caused fresh, hot tears to come to her eyes so Sansa shook it away and focused on something else. Like Arya and her problems.  
   
“So how are you and Gendry doing?” Sansa asked. She leaned her neck against the edge of the whirlpool, stretching her legs out in the water and propping her feet up on one of the steps.  
   
“We’re fine,” Arya answered, wrapping her arms around her legs as she flicked at a scab on her knee. “I mean, we’re Facebook official and everything now, and he’s stopped trying to break up with me all the time, so… better.”  
   
Sansa didn’t say anything, and Arya quickly acted to fill the silence.  
   
“I know he likes me, and I know in my heart that we’re supposed to be together…”  
   
“… but?”  
   
Arya gave something like a half gurgle, half groan. “… but… he won’t… we haven’t…”  
   
Sansa blushed. “Oh! Really? I would have thought-”  
   
“I know, right!?” Arya said. “It’s like, he’s older than me, I know he’s more experienced. I know for a fact that he’s had sex with at least two other girls, so he can’t be nervous about it or something.”  
   
“Well, you don’t know that,” Sansa said. “Having sex is one thing, but having sex with someone you really, really care about can be intimidating.”  
   
“And he doesn’t think I’m intimidated? I mean, I’m the vaginal virgin over here!” Arya laughed. “And I know he wants to, I catch him looking at me all the time and we do other stuff but it’s like… I can’t wait anymore. I’m so fucking horny, like, all the fucking time. Not just for him, but in general!”  
   
“Tell him that, guys love hearing stuff like that.”  
   
“I already have! Multiple times! I’ve sent him dirty texts, dirty videos of me, hell I even left him a dirty voicemail like it’s the fucking 90’s or something! But no matter what I do, no matter how I hint at him or throw myself at him, I just can’t get that big, dumb idiot to fucking fuck me!”  
   
Arya grew more and more heated as she spoke, and on the last bit Sansa heard a loud gasp. Glancing behind her, Sansa observed that the other whirlpool, the second of the two outdoor hot tubs connected to the ski lodge’s spa, was currently occupied.  
   
A girl with golden-blonde hair, slightly curly in a way that could only come from genetics and not a curler, was sitting alone in the bubbling water. She had her hair up in a high ponytail, the end dipping into the water like a brush into paint. Her face was hard to see as she was wearing wide, white-rimmed sunglasses that completely blacked out her eyes. When they had first gotten into their whirlpool, the girl had looked almost asleep, so Sansa had given her little notice.  
   
Now though, as the girl held a hand over her mouth in scandalized surprise, Sansa took the time to really look at her.  
   
And golly was there a lot to look at.  
   
It would have been easy to say the girl was “perfect,” or “sexy,” or a “Lolita-like wet dream come true,” so instead the word that Sansa locked onto was one that Myranda had taught her: embonpoint.  
   
The way she had defined it was “perfect bodily balance.” A girl who had embonpoint was a girl who had just the right amount of height for her hips, and would usually have more curves than average around her thighs and ass, without being considered plus-size. You knew a girl had embonpoint when even her silhouette flared out in all the right shapes.  
   
The girl was wearing a pale-yellow bikini with white piping on the edges, two triangles of fabric straining valiantly to contain her breasts, the pale zaftig peaks spilling over the edges. Her thighs flared out in skintight tension with the tightly wound strings of her bikini bottom, creating a beautiful contrast between her slim, almost child-like waist that curved out toward plump, filled-out hips.  
   
Having learned more about the diversity of the female form from her art modeling, Sansa was struck by how this girl’s body flawlessly encapsulated the balanced edge a woman’s build could take between youthful and womanly. Her face, arms, and waist seemed to suggest that the girl was even younger than Arya, yet that was hard to believe when looking at, not only her obviously prematurely developed breasts, but the soft, squishy verve of her thighs as well. In some ways, this girl’s body was more mature-looking than Sansa’s own substantial curves.  
   
All the pieces put together made the girl strikingly attractive. Sansa, for all her years of declaring openly and honestly that she was a straight (at best a 2 on the Kinsey scale, maybe 3 after a few tokes), she could not stop herself from having one singular thought about this stranger.  
   
_”Yummy.” _  
  
The girl slipped and jiggled her way out of the hot tub and wrapped all her delightful treats in a towel, glancing only once more at Sansa and Arya before blushing and heading for the changing room door. On the way out, she bumped into two figures who were leaving the men’s changing room, and Sansa could see the visible yo-yoing of their eyes. The smaller one, who seemed a little bit closer to Sansa’s age even though his paunch gut served to make him look 50, was so stunned that he could only gape and gawk.  
   
The older man though gave the girl a soft smile full of genial warmth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The girl smiled back, seemingly comforted before she quietly apologized, padding past them to the women’s changing room. Though Sansa could understand the need to look at the girl’s ass as she walked away, she became concerned when the two men started whispering to each other.  
   
Sansa’s concern grew to alarm when the men turned back around to the changing room without even trying one of the hot tubs.  
   
“Hey, are you getting pruney? I’m getting pruney.” Sansa stood without waiting for a response from Arya, quickly wrapping herself up in a towel and grabbing her phone and purse.  
   
“What? We just got here. Hey!”  
   
Arya griped and grumbled about wanting to stay longer, about how Sansa had interrupted her when she was talking, but eventually followed without too much protest. Usually Sansa liked to shower after using a public hot tub (other people’s germs and all) but she focused instead on changing as quickly as possible, making a quick aside to a still half-naked Arya that she would meet her outside.  
   
When Sansa stepped out of the changing rooms, past the spa exit that went straight to the parking lot instead of the lodge inside, she quickly walked over to the men’s changing room exit and opened the door, shouting to see if anyone was stillinside.  
   
There was no answer. Sansa’s heart rate picked up, even as she tried to calm herself down, glancing around the parking lot for any movement. She was being irrational, really.  
   
But then she saw something. Three shapes in the distance, people. The air was cold and she was still a little damp from the hot tub, pieces of her hair freezing and sticking to her neck. Sansa could barely feel it though as she walked toward the shapes, her gait turning into a jog when she could hear them.  
   
“S-stop it, p-please just give me my keys, please.”  
   
“I don’t know, I don’t think this is your car,” the sweet-smiling man said with a grandfatherly chuckle. “In fact, I think you’re a dirty little thief.”  
   
“More like a dirty little girl,” the younger guy sleazed, licking his lips as he tried to massage the girl’s shoulders from behind, ignoring the way she tried to shake him off. “You know what? This car is way too expensive for some high school slut. I bet it’s really her sugar daddy’s car. Were you a good little girl and earned this car? I’ve got some cash, maybe you can do some stuff for me.”  
   
“I’m underage you sick freak!” the girl shouted, tears coming to her eyes. She was dressed in black yoga pants and a pale blue, fleece jacket, the zipper drawn up only halfway as it strained against the girl’s considerable cleavage.  
   
Except Sansa didn’t notice any of those things about the girl in that moment. All she noticed was the girl’s pale green eyes, wide in fear as she pulled the back of her jacket down over her backside, to keep the younger guy from trying to rub himself against her ass. The older guy grabbed her by the forearm and pressed it tight into her side before leaning his hips closer to her leg.  
   
“Who the fuck cares?” he whispered.  
   
“Hey!” Sansa shouted, thankfully causing both men to back away from the girl.  
   
Freed from their grasp, the girl shouldered her purse and ran full tilt into Sansa, hugging her into a death grip and babbling. Even now, at a moment where Sansa was possibly walking into something quite frightening, she couldn’t help but notice how much plump softness the girl had up top, matched only by the lusty wiggle of her butt as she gripped Sansa even harder.  
   
“Who the hell are you?” the younger man asked, anger mixing with caution in his voice. “You her sister or something?”  
   
“No, no, Joss, don’t you see, this is a concerned citizen,” the older man laughed, pushing past his comrade to get into Sansa’s space. “But you needn’t worry young lady, we were being good citizens as well. Checking in on this little girl and making sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”  
   
“Th-they took my car keys,” the girl whispered into Sansa’s chest, being only a little taller than Arya and therefore a head shorter than Sansa. “I mean, I-I dropped them and he-he picked them up and I-”  
   
“Can’t you see how hysterical she’s being?” the older man interrupted, now standing so close that Sansa could see how yellow and brown his teeth were, like he’d eaten nothing but sweets his whole life.  
   
“Raff, let’s just go…” the younger man said, but was quickly pushed aside.  
   
“We’ve got this. You can just run along.” The man, Raff, grabbed the blonde girl and literally pulled her away from Sansa and into his arms. For such a small, modest looking man, Sansa was struck speechless by how abruptly he became physical. “Don’t make this into more than it is…”  
   
“No, no, no, please, please…” the girl mumbled, unable to escape his grip despite her efforts.  
   
The predator was practically daring Sansa to do something with his eyes. She could tell from the look he was giving her that he was willing to let this get violent if needed, which terrified Sansa as they were in such a public, open place. Anybody could see them.  
   
Then again, men could be shameless about things like that.  
   
Pulling her phone out of her butt pocket, Sansa opened the Instagram app and started a live stream. At first Raff and his protégé-in-rape looked befuddled, almost entertained, until she started talking.  
   
“Hey everyone, so I’m at the Grey Cliff ski resort near Lake Tahoe, just getting out of the spa, when I met these two gentlemen trying to abduct and possibly assault this underage girl. Say hi guys!” Sansa turned the phone to them so they could see themselves on the screen. Raff seemed confused but Joss started to panic, especially when he saw how many people were joining to watch the live feed. On a given day, Sansa could easily get at least 1,200 people to watch and comment on one of her livestreams.  
   
“The old balding guy is Raff, and I think the other guy is his son or something, so that’s more disgusting foam on the top of this shit latte. Hey asshole, tell me again how this girl is being hysterical for not wanting you to fucking touch her anymore you fucking slimy piece of gutter shit?”  
   
Raff took the bait and released the girl, marching toward Sansa with ferocity in his eyes until Joss grabbed him again by the arm.  
   
“Dude, let’s just go!”  
   
“Not until I make this fucking cunt-”  
   
“Excuse me?”  
   
They all turned to see Jon walking up, Arya not far behind, his hair still wet and pulled back into a manbun. Though it was 45 degrees out, Jon was wearing a flannel button-down with no shirt underneath and tight, dark jeans. His right hand was curled into a fist, the tendons in his bicep tightening and bulging with promising threat. Though there was two of them, and Raff seemed a little taller than Jon, there was no contest as to who was the greater physical threat. Raff and Joss were opportunistic predators, nothing more. Jon ate guys like them for breakfast.  
   
Annoyingly to Sansa’s pride, Jon’s appearance seemed sufficient to finally scare Raff off, the old pervert murmuring something about having better things to do before he threw the girl’s car keys on the ground. They both scurried away shortly after that, getting into an old, beat-up van and driving away.  
   
Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as all the tension left her body, while the girl was practically crying tears of joy. Arya started jabbering on about writing the guys’ license plate down while Jon knelt and picked up the girl’s car keys, still kneeling as he handed them back to her.  
   
It looked kind of like Jon was proposing to the girl.  
   
“Here you go,” Jon said. “You doing alright?”  
   
“Yes, I-I am so- thank you so much sir.” The girl’s voice was still squeaky with adrenaline, her face red. She was fussing with her hair as she spoke, trying to play off her tears and give Jon a bright smile.  
   
“That’s good,” Jon said, the girl nodding her head so quickly that one of the bobby pins in her hair popped out, causing her to “ope” in surprise before slipping into a fit of giggles.  
   
Sansa only allowed herself to roll her eyes when she saw Arya do it first.  
   
“And don’t thank me, thank Sansa here,” Jon said with a nod her way. “Seems like she helped you out long before I came by.”  
   
The girl seemed to suddenly notice that Sansa was still standing there.  
   
“Right, yes I- thank you so much, r-really,” the girl said. “I usually deal with creeps like, all the time, but those guys were just, like, really aggressive and… and scary and I just- I like froze or something and I couldn’t- thank you, thank you, thank you, really, truly, thank you.”  
   
“It’s alright,” Sansa said. “It was really nothing.”  
   
The girl smiled but then frowned, as if she just remembered something. She stared for a few more seconds, causing Sansa to wonder if she had said something wrong, until the girl started to laugh. It was an awkward, sort of embarrassed laugh though.  
   
“I’m sorry, but your name is Sansa… as in Sansa Stark?”  
   
“Uh… yes, I- have we met?” Sansa tried placing the girl but she was sure she would have remembered someone not only so strikingly attractive, but someone this specifically… distracting.  
   
“In a way, but I was just a little kid at the time so you probably don’t remember. My name is Myrcella Baratheon. You used to date my brother in high school?”  
   
The air, so dry and cold just a moment ago, seemed to be sucked up into a vacuum, sound and light and movement all freezing still as a great blazing fire ignited itself along Sansa’s spine. As the heat grew and grew, licking hot tendrils of pain over her face, carving rivulets in her cheeks so her tears could trickle down and steam on the pavement, Sansa’s vision bounced and then turned, like the world was pitching to one side.  
   
There was an odd, wailing noise, like someone shouting at her but from a very long distance away. Sansa realized it was Arya saying something to her. A deeper boom assaulted Sansa’s achy forehead, and she knew that had to be Jon. She just couldn’t remember why she was here suddenly.  
   
“Joffrey,” Sansa whispered. “Joffrey is here?”  
   
No one responded because no one heard her. Jon was talking to Myrcella, comforting her it looked like, while Arya was on her phone, talking to Gendry probably. Watching the two conversations happen at the same time, Sansa embraced the auditory chaos, Jon and Arya’s words blending and bleeding into one another.  
   
It kept her stable for a time. Breathing, focusing on the present moment, remembering that she was safe now. She repeated a song she liked under her breath over and over.  
   
“Hey.”  
   
Sansa snapped out of her trance and looked at Jon. His face was so handsome, his beard starting to come in more and grow past scruff, giving him a bit more of a wild, older look. Sansa liked it. She liked him. Jon was a good guy. Remembering that helped Sansa calm down.  
   
“Hey.” She smiled to show Jon that she was okay. “I’m alright. I-I was trying the breathing exercises you told me about.”  
   
“Oh good, I’m glad they’re working for you,” Jon said. “My therapist said they could help with panic attacks, but to be honest it’s different for everyone.”  
   
“Where is Arya? And that girl… Myrcella?”  
   
“They went back inside,” Jon explained with a nod toward the ski lodge. “Myrcella was still a little shaken up by what happened and Arya offered to buy her a hot chocolate.”  
   
“I’m sure she did that out of the goodness of her heart and not because you asked her to give me a minute.” Jon gave a little shrug and Sansa pecked him on the cheek for it. “Thank you. I’m okay. Really. I just… I need a second…”  
   
“Hey,” Jon said again. “You did a really great thing here. You probably saved that girl-”  
   
“Girl… just a girl…” Sansa’s brain was finally catching up. “Joffrey’s sister, I never even think about her… did she happen to mention where he is?”  
   
Jon didn’t need to ask who she meant. “According to Myrcella, her brother and his girlfriend went out into the town nearby to look at souvenirs and the pawn shops. They’re all staying at a cabin that their grandfather owns out here, on a family vacation I guess. Myrcella was bored and alone in their cabin so she came up to the ski lodge to kill some time before her party tonight.”  
   
“Party?” Sansa asked, now wondering how long she’d been spaced out for Jon to have received the full rundown on the girl’s situation.  
   
“Yeah, I guess part of the reason for the vacation out here is to celebrate her birthday.”  
   
Sansa frowned and had a thought, yet she felt a little embarrassed to ask Jon about it. There was no safe way of framing the question without it sounding accusatory, so Sansa tried to soften her suspicion with a smile.  
   
“She told you it’s her birthday?”  
   
“Well, it’s not her birthday today exactly, it’s erm, uh, tomorrow.” Jon cleared his throat. “She said we were all invited to the party, for uh, you know, helping her out and everything. She’s um… she’s a sweet girl, I think. Tougher than she looks. Smart too.”  
   
Sansa waited. Like with Arya, she just let the silence do her interrogating.  
   
“What?” Jon finally snapped.  
   
“How old is she turning?”  
   
Jon ignored her and started to walk away.  
   
_“You have the face of an angel, but you’re a sinner at heart Sansa Stark.” _  
  
*****______

__

__

__Sansa couldn’t be sure what it was, but she knew it had to be something truly spectacular._ _

__Maybe he was a saint who had died for some powerful god, or maybe he had saved thousands of orphans from a war-torn country, or maybe it was something more simple like he’d discovered the cure for polio or smallpox. Maybe he’d been born under a lucky star or maybe sometimes, to balance out all the truly terrible things about the world, once in a while the gods decided to overcorrect with one person._ _

__Whatever the case, Jon must have done something truly miraculous in a previous incarnation to deserve the life he had now._ _

__“Oh, and here are some pics of me and my friends at a foam party in Myr. They get really crazy out there, I think because the drinking age is like 14. Oh, but don’t swipe through the pictures too far, a couple of them would be really embarrassing for my friends lol.”_ _

__Jon’s eyes bugged out as Myrcella scrolled past one photo and his voice cracked slightly when he spoke._ _

__“Embarrassing for your friends, but not for you?”_ _

__“Well… I don’t like, embarrass easy? I’m totally mature for my age that way.”_ _

__Arya tapped one of her rings against her watch, the soft metallic tapping sound indicating that that was the fourth time Myrcella had made a comment about her age and relative “maturity.” Even Jon would get the hint at this point._ _

__Sansa smiled and animatedly rolled her eyes for Arya’s enjoyment, glancing over at Jon sharing an old, calfskin-upholstered loveseat with the teeny bopper. At first Myrcella had tried to squeeze in next to Jon, squishing her wide, scrumptious hips against Jon’s thigh. Eventually though she decided that that was “like, way too uncomfy” and had instead opted for swinging her legs over Jon’s lap. Jon had made mention about moving but every time he tried, Myrcella had more pictures to show him on her phone._ _

__“Okay, so, this next one is like, a little racy or whatever, but don’t judge me, it was the Burning of the Ships festival in Dorne, and if you’ve never been, it’s like a total frat party on acid-”_ _

__“And how many frat parties have you been to?” Arya asked._ _

__Myrcella was suddenly tripped up and blushing. “I- well not really any, but like, I meant, you know, in movies and stuff.”_ _

__“Right.”_ _

__Sansa frowned at her sister. Arya had been witness to Jon getting hit on countless times, not to mention the times it must have happened before Sansa moved in with them, but for some reason Myrcella had rubbed Arya the wrong way. Though the girl was undeniably very extroverted and clearly interested in Jon, Sansa saw it for what it was: just a kid trying to have some fun, nothing more._ _

__Though Myrcella had been quick to take up all of Jon’s attention, as well as the attention of pretty much everyone in the ski lodge’s lobby, Sansa couldn’t judge her for that. Because Sansa remembered being the same way at that age. When you were young and pretty and used to everyone’s attention and adulation, you grew used to it. Sometimes your ego would get to the point that not being the center of attention made you feel out of control of social situations and jittery. Arya’ different experiences in high school probably precluded her from feeling too much empathy however._ _

__Having been cut down so publically in conversation, Myrcella fidgeted nervously in Jon’s lap, trying to hide the embarrassment on her face. Though she and Arya were around the same age, Sansa couldn’t help but focus on just how absolutely different they were._ _

__“So what school are you going to Myrcella?” Sansa asked, bringing the conversation back to a place where Myrcella might feel more comfortable._ _

__“Oh, um, well, my mom wanted me to go to KLU like Joff, but they wouldn’t let me do the double-major I wanted. KLU I mean, not my mom,” Myrcella seemed glad to be back on a good conversational footing. “So I’m going to Sunspear in the fall, full ride and everything.”_ _

__“What are you double-majoring in?”_ _

__“Environmental and political science.” Myrcella shifted in Jon’s lap, leaning away from him more so she could look at Sansa. “You know that like, our government creates false scarcities in standard food production to like, control the amount of interest we can subsidize on other global outreach programs for refugees? Even though we have, like, totally the best agricultural preservation practices of any known developed country in the world! Because of like profit margins? Lol. It’s just so the authoritarian council of so-called democracy that runs our country can continue to research the best way to make our like, Anarchist, right-leaning polities switch to favoring a more feudal idea of a controlling majority. That’s somehow, like, better than just having a more socialized government? Like, as if, you know?”_ _

__Sansa was struck speechless, Arya looked like she had just witnessed a bear juggle, but Jon chuckled._ _

__“So you would prefer if our politicians were eco-socialists?”_ _

__Sansa and Arya both “huh”-ed at the same time but Myrcella’s eyes lit up as she turned back to Jon and wrapped her arms around his neck._ _

__“Oh my gods Jon! You know about like, eco-socialism stuff?” Myrcella unzipped her fleece jacket to reveal nothing but a tight, translucent-white tank top underneath. “All the boys at my school don’t like, know what the fuck I’m talking about half the time, jk, but seriously, that’s so cool.”_ _

__“Well, my friend Sam is very into it, he’s showed me a few articles from Spinx-Thoughts-”_ _

__“I love that website! Oemgee Jon, we’re like, meant to be, but seriously.”_ _

__“Fuck this,” Arya mumbled, though only loud enough for Sansa to hear. Jon might have heard as well, but Myrcella was going a mile a minute now, and it was more than possible that he was having trouble focusing as she continued to shift around in his lap, running her fingers over his neck and jawline._ _

__“Hey, come on,” Sansa whispered to her sister. “Let’s get you a hot chocolate.”_ _

__“I don’t want-” but before Arya could finish, Sansa took her hand and led her away, walking away from the set of couches and loveseats by the giant bay windows that overlooked the ski slopes, over to the food table area where there were some muffins and chips and other snacks for guests to take, along with a large pot filled with pre-made hot chocolate. Sansa grabbed two paper cups and filled them both, handing one to her sister even as Arya continued to stare at Jon and Myrcella across the room._ _

__“Okay, what is the deal? Why are you acting this way?” Sansa started._ _

__Arya seemed at first like she was going to dismiss Sansa’s question until Jon burst out into a large, gut-rolling laugh that drew both of their attention. He was still chuckling, an uncontrollable vibration running through him as Myrcella patiently waited for him to be done, biting the corner of her lip for a second before involuntarily gasping when Jon patted her roughly on the back._ _

__“Gods, sometimes I forget how fucking annoying it can be to hang out with Jon,” Arya said, still summoning fire with her eyes._ _

__Sansa smiled. “You love it when other girls hit on Jon.”_ _

__“I love it when _women_ hit on Jon,” Arya corrected. “When he finds a lonely divorcee at a bar, or some college chick with an asshole boyfriend who can’t make her cum, or even the occasional club rat just looking for a hard screw, I’m all on board. But this girl?”_ _

__Myrcella stood up and took the fleece jacket off completely, fully revealing the tank top in all its bright white and very thin glory. The material extended just low enough to cover the girl’s breasts, and even though she was wearing a bra underneath, it was a dark green coloring that made it stand out in stark contrast to the white material, almost emphasizing her ribs. When she sat back down, rather than having her legs across Jon’s lap while squeezed in between his hips and the loveseat, Myrcella placed herself right on Jon’s groin. It was so blatant, Jon even lifted her up a bit to make sure she didn’t sit directly on anything._ _

__“Oh come on, you’re telling me you don’t find that annoying!” Arya pointed at the two. “That doesn’t bother you? Seeing Jon have to baby that girl while she makes an idiot of herself? She’s younger than me and she’s acting like a huge-”_ _

__“You know what I think?” Sansa cut in. “I think girls like Myrcella, girls who are used to guys giving them attention without even trying, don’t know what to do when they meet a guy who doesn’t like them back. So, sometimes, they act silly and try to be the things that they think boys will like, like acting stupid or vulnerable or whatever else.”_ _

__“But Jon’s not like that-”_ _

__“I agree,” Sansa interrupted again, now taking Arya by the hand. “I agree that Jon is not like that, that he likes people who are true to themselves, which is why he loves you so much.” Arya blushed and a little of her annoyance melted away just like that. “But you know what else I think? I think that you aren’t really annoyed with Jon being hit on, that’s like saying you’re sick of water being wet. In fact, I would go as far as to say that you aren’t really annoyed at Myrcella either-”_ _

__“Okay smartypants, then what am I annoyed about?”_ _

__“Gendry.”_ _

__Arya’s blush became a furious flush but she eventually nodded. “I just… for a while Jon was supposed to… you know… be my first. Then I met Gendry, and I want him to be my first, really I do, but I just… I don’t know… I wonder if maybe Myrcella is a virgin too and if she is… it’s not jealousy really…”_ _

__“I understand.” And she did._ _

__Arya smiled and shocked Sansa by actually giving her a hug and mumbling a thanks into Sansa’s chest._ _

__“If I’m not getting laid, it just doesn’t feel right that Jon should get to.”_ _

__That made both of them giggle._ _

__“Oh sweet Mother, who is that delicious little treat?”_ _

__Sansa and Arya turned to see Daenerys walking toward them from the front entrance, her eyes locked onto her boyfriend currently getting the PG-13 version of a lap dance. Though they couldn’t hear them, Myrcella was playing some game now where she tried to do something to Jon’s hair, braid it maybe, and he would try to fight her off but she would slip out of his grasp, causing him to have to grip her again more tightly. Classic high school flirting._ _

__“Hey, where’s Gendry?” Arya asked, glancing around to see if he was following close behind._ _

__“Oh, it’s a bit of a long story.” Dany managed to draw her attention away from Jon long enough to address Arya directly. “He’s back at our cabin and he’s… well, he’s not alone.” Arya frowned but before she could ask, Dany handed her the keys to Gendry’s truck. “He said you knew how to drive a stick. He said to come over as soon as you can, and that he’s got a surprise for you. I’ll catch a ride with Jon and Sansa later.”_ _

__There was still some confusion on Arya’s face but after glancing at Sansa for approval, and receiving a befuddled shrug along with a nod, Arya took off. Though Dany glanced at Arya leaving at the ski lodge, her attention was quickly drawn back to Jon and Myrcella. Her eyes stayed focused on them even as she spoke to Sansa._ _

__“So how were the slopes?”_ _

__“They were good. Arya showed me a few tricks to master the intermediate ones, though I still felt dreadfully awkward the whole way down the mountain. How was caving?”_ _

__“You know, I thought I would just do it and cross it off my bucket list, but Gendry found a way to really make it fun and interesting.”_ _

__“And along the way, come up with a special surprise for my sister?” Sansa asked._ _

__“Not so much a surprise but more a… possible solution to their problems,” Daenerys said, glancing at Sansa and taking a sip from Arya’s abandoned hot chocolate. “I’m sure Arya shared with you the status of her and Gendry’s relationship?”_ _

__“She made mention of some things.”_ _

__“Well Gendry made mention of some things too, and I suggested a solution that, while reluctant to try it at first, I feel confident I assured our large friend that it is the best course forward.” Dany placed the cup back on the table and turned to Sansa. “Let’s just leave their private matters private for now while you tell me all about that girl currently doing everything possible to mount my boyfriend.”_ _

__“Her name is Myrcella. She was here at the spa at the same time as me and Arya. She’s going to Sunspear in the Fall and she’s out here on vacation with her family.” Sansa felt it would be strange mentioning the two men, like she was highlighting her own bravery or something, so she decided it was best to just leave that part out._ _

__“Hmmm… so she’s still in high school, 18 at the oldest but probably not…” Daenerys sighed. “Then Jon will never sleep with her. Pity.”_ _

__“Really?” Sansa asked. “You’re that sure?”_ _

__“Jon thinks of himself as a reformed bad boy,” Daenerys explained. “Yes he’ll have a lapse every once in a while, in no small part thanks to my urging, then we hit the town and tear up some fresh flesh, but most of the time? Jon wants to slow down. He wants to be different. Sleeping with a girl who doesn’t even obey the ‘half your age plus seven’ rule? No, Jon would never go for it.”_ _

__Though Sansa hadn’t thought of Jon in that way, she immediately agreed with Dany’s assessment. Jon could be rebellious, argumentative, even… naughty… at times, but ultimately what he wanted most was to be a good person. Being a good person and being a manslut were not mutually exclusive but if Jon had to choose to be one or the other… Sansa agreed that he would choose the boring option._ _

__

__

__“It’s more than that too,” Sansa added. “The girl is actually the younger sister of one of my exes.”_ _

__“Really? Small world.”_ _

__“Yeah, and this one was a particular piece of work, so I know Jon wouldn’t get involved with someone that close to him. He’d worry that it was too much stress for me and to be honest, I don’t know if he would be completely wrong.”_ _

__“Broke your heart that badly, huh?” Dany followed the question by wrapping herself around Sansa’s hip. “I know that feeling.”_ _

__“No, more like he was a right bastard to the point that even thinking about him gives me a panic attack.”_ _

__“Ah,” Dany nodded, squeezing Sansa even closer. “I know that feeling too.”_ _

__Sansa sighed, her breath shuddering a little. “How did you get over it?”_ _

__Dany smiled, but it wasn’t a smile of nostalgic joy. It reminded Sansa briefly of the look Raff had had on his face when he started crowding Myrcella in the parking lot, before Sansa had jumped in. It was a satisfied smile that also held a threatening promise. It was predatory and inviting._ _

__“Well, this one time, I-”_ _

__“GET OFF MY SISTER YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!”_ _

__“Joffy!”_ _

__Like the sound of thunder warning of an impending flash of lightning, Sansa heard before she saw a disaster play out._ _

__Joffrey, who had once been the most handsome boy in school, with his elegant soft features, bright and hypnotizing green eyes, and pouty pink lips that always made his grins look a little defiant, a little more handsome, had clearly seen better days. His features had become marked by frown lines and poorly healed scars, sleep bags under his eyes and a gross white film on the corner of his mouth. His lips were chapped, his eyes red, and his snarl, which had always been ugly, looked downright menacing now._ _

__Myrcella had changed too. The soft-spoken, nervous girl who had allowed Raff and Joss to push her around and press themselves against her body, was suddenly returned, the waifish firecracker who talked about weird green initiative stuff with Jon dissolving away into smoke. She stared at the ground as Joff hovered over her, shouting and berating her with foul language._ _

__“What the fuck are you doing acting like a dirty whore for this idiot, huh? Don’t you have any fucking self-respect you slimy little cunt? Huh!?” Joffrey followed his question by picking up the fleece jacket Myrcella had dropped over her purse and wrapping it around her chest backwards, pawing and shaking her arms and breasts. “If you don’t cover yourself, it won’t be my fault when every guy here fucks you so hard that your cunt rips out of your asshole, is that what you want?”_ _

__“That’s enough.” Jon’s voice was hard yet smooth, like a velvet glove wrapped around an iron fist. “You don’t need to demean her-”_ _

__It spoke to how much Joffrey had changed, and not for the better, that he didn’t even bother looking at Jon or ask who he was. He just went straight for violence._ _

__After the punch landed, Jon took a step back, dazed but still on his feet. He brushed his hand over his lip, coming away with some blood but otherwise seeming fine. He looked more annoyed than anything._ _

__“Alright, you get that one free shot, after that-”_ _

__Joff didn’t let Jon finish. He took another swing, landing a harsh haymaker across Jon’s cheek before following it up with a second punch to Jon’s gut. That one did knock Jon off his feet, crumpling him to the ground. Jon was bent over now, holding his hands to his stomach in pain, his head down. Joff seemed satisfied by that, grabbing Myrcella by the shoulder and herding her away but she had to stop him for a moment as she tried to grab at her purse. Joff snatched it away from her and fished through it._ _

__“Margaery took the car, so I need the keys to yours.”_ _

__“That’s fine Joff, just please, please calm down, please.” Myrcella kept her head down and stared at the carpet as she pleaded._ _

__Sansa was about to intervene when Jon stood up. It wasn’t a jump up, like he had been called to action or was eager to defend Myrcella. It was more like a slow draw off the ground, like he was still in pain but fighting through it. Joff seemed to notice his weakened state too. Once he had a hold of the car keys, Joffrey dropped the purse at Myrcella’s feet and walked over to Jon, even gripping him by the shoulder. It looked like he was helping Jon up a bit, like he wanted to go for a handshake._ _

__Instead it was another punch. Only this time Jon was ready._ _

__Deflecting the punch with one hand, Jon turned his grip so that he gripped Joffrey’s wrist and pulled him forward, almost bringing them face to face. Except at the last second Jon pitched his head forward into Joffrey’s nose. The loud crunching noise was followed by a spurt of blood spraying into the air._ _

__Then Jon head-butted him again. And again. And again._ _

__After the last one Joffrey fell back and curled into a fetal position, his hands over his face as blood seeped between his fingers. Jon steadied himself above Joff, pitching from side to side for a moment before he regained his balance. His lip was still bleeding from the first punch, but now Jon also had a trail of blood streaming down his forehead from where he had head-butted Joff. As the trickle slipped past his nose and down his cheek, Jon licked the blood trail off his lips and spat softly, a mad smile coming to his face._ _

__Sansa felt her panties get heavier with moisture._ _

__“Alright, all of you out!!” one of the lodge employees finally shouted, bringing this circus to a close._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of set- up, but I promise you, the next chapter's gonna get smuttier...


	10. Chapter 10 - Cabin Fever (Part 2 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More old faces, more intense situations, but Sansa is feeling confident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a beast and a half, but officially all the set-up is done, and now the fun really begins.
> 
> If you don't like what the tags promise, didn't like certain past chapters... you won't like what's coming. 
> 
> For the rest of you, buckle-up.

When Sansa first met him, she was 13-years-old, and Joffrey went on and on about a band called The Freak Outs. Later that day Sansa would immediately use her father’s computer to comprehensively educate herself on everything about said The Freak Outs. Their best songs, the band members’ names, even tour dates. She joined their fan club online to receive regular news about them and bought some posters so she could put them up in her room, removing the standard boy bands and teenage heartthrobs from her walls to make room for her new favorite; whatever was Joff’s favorite.

Even then she was fantasizing about marrying Joffrey. The images in her head were childish but without fail made the butterflies in her stomach explode with joy. She would wonder if Joff was a good kisser. She hoped that he would be her first. A few weeks later, her dream came true.

In high school they officially started dating, and even though at times it was stressful, Sansa remembered it being the best part of her young life. Whether it was struggling with her school work or her waistline, Sansa always comforted herself by remembering that the most handsome boy in school liked her and kissed her and no one else.

How naïve she had been.

When Joff graduated, Sansa was still a senior in high school but her heart was already at KLU. There were times when she ditched plans with her friends just to Skype with Joff or would lie to her parents about sleeping over at Jeyne’s, really doing the three-hour drive at night to campus. She skipped classes whenever he visited so she could spend the whole day with him, the two of them sometimes never leaving her bedroom for hours. Sansa remembered spending her own money on plane tickets once, just to visit him at KLU instead of having a Christmas break with her best friends, friends who she never spoke to again. She tried not to think about that now.

At first Joff had done a great job of keeping up communication and making her feel secure in their relationship, but by November he was missing almost all of their phone dates and ghosting her texts. Sansa didn’t say anything but instead became particularly focused on hurrying along her senior year so she could graduate and be by her beloved Joffrey’s side… and keep an eye on him.

Clearly he had moved on from her by the time she got to KLU. Sometimes when in front of people he knew, he would act like they’d never met before, so Sansa tried to give him some space. She made new friends, found new interests, and tried to shape herself into the kind of interesting, special person that Joffrey deserved. Even the idea of having a good career and following her passion was filtered through the lens of how Joff would react. Everything for Joffrey. She really would have given him the world if he had just asked.

The distance worked. After dating one or two guys in her dorm and acing her first midterms, Joff suddenly found more time to spend with her, and even introduced her to some friends he had made in his first year. The first time he called Sansa his girlfriend at a highlighter party, she practically broke down into tears of relief. Joff’s friends were mostly cocaine-heads and frat bros, but they were Joff’s friends and so they were her friends too.

Her joy was brief though as Sansa slowly came to understand that Joff’s attention was all she was allowed to have. Joining a sorority? Bad idea. Applying for a graphic design internship? What was the point? Making a new straight male friend? Out of the question, even though Joff’s own friends hit on her constantly and sometimes quite aggressively. Even when she thought about joining the intramural volleyball team, just to have something to do that wasn’t schoolwork, Joff had an objection.

“Only sluts join the volleyball team,” he had sneered, shocking Sansa even though she had heard him use such language before. Just never with her.

By the end, he never even called her by her name. It was either, “you,” “idiot,” or “slut,” right up until the day she left him. She didn’t regret the relationship though and she promised herself she never would. Because being with Joffrey taught Sansa that the only person who could give you self-worth was yourself and she would never forget that lesson. Even now, whenever Sansa felt particularly lonely and sad, like the world was working extra hard to remind her that she sucked and was kind of selfish sometimes, she would notice that those voices always sounded remarkably like Joffrey. And then she would remember, Joffrey always lied.

In a way, he was still haunting her. Still trying to control her.

“Oh fuck, that hurts.”

Sansa sighed and turned over the ice pack, the refreshingly cooler side making Jon sigh in pleasure as it was pressed against his forehead. The butterfly bandage underneath was coming loose from moisture, but still valiantly held on, pulling the cut tightly closed and stopping the bleeding. Though Jon was resolute that he was fine, the continued stream of blood had caused both Dany and Sansa to recoil in disgust.

Having been roundly booted from the lodge, Dany offered to drive while Sansa nursed Jon in the back with ice and antiseptic. Joff and Myrcella were still there when they left, Joff doubled-over on the ground in pain while his sister looked on the edge of tears. Sansa had a wild thought that they should offer to drive Myrcella home, but one look at the girl made Sansa rethink that idea. Before Myrcella had stared at Jon with a juvenile, palpable lust in her eyes, but at that moment it was replaced by terror and paralysis.

Jon sighed and wrapped his arm around Sansa’s shoulders, though he seemed to do it thoughtlessly as he chuckled to himself and rubbed a palm across his lips. Sansa had suggested that he might have a concussion but Jon was stubborn. She deferred to his judgement for now.

“Hey… are you okay?”

It took Sansa a moment to realize Jon was speaking to her. “What? Yes, I’m fine. You’re the one who mutilated himself just to make a point, you big drama queen.”

“Yeah, I guess I did do that, huh?” Jon giggled.

Sansa smiled. “Idiot.”

After about 20 minutes they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. Sansa opened the car door for Jon and helped him up the steps to the front door, though he was playfully shooing her away the whole time. Sansa figured it was safe to stop babying him after that. Dany had already given up on trying to help, saying that he was too determined to act tough, so she went on ahead of them while Sansa and Jon walked more cautiously through the snow and sleet.

“I’m sorry if I made it worse somehow,” Jon said. “I was just trying to… I don’t know, probably nothing good. I admit it. I just didn’t like the guy and I wanted to hurt him, but I’m sorry if that hurt you too.”

Sansa shook her head. “Honestly, seeing him again and seeing how bad he’s gotten or… I don’t know, realizing how bad he always was… it hurts now but maybe it’s good. The past year I’ve been building him up in my head and now that I’ve seen him, it’s like I suddenly remembered that he’s just a guy. Worse, an asshole. One who my best friend can knock out without using his hands, which is good to know.”

Jon frowned. “Best friend?”

“Yeah,” Sansa felt the bridge of her nose flare up with heat. “I mean, I get that your best friend is probably Sam or Val or whoever, and that’s fine. But recently I’ve come to realize how much I rely on you, and just, you always look out for me… I’m lucky to have you in my life.”

She was about to open the front door when Jon pulled on her arm and enveloped her in the warmest, nicest hug in the world. Sansa felt ashamed that her first thought was about how tight and formed his muscles felt under his shirt and she burned those feelings away when she nuzzled her nose into Jon’s hair. Musky wood, dead leaves burning, some sort of spicy peppery flavor, maybe from something he’d eaten. He was comfort and warmth. Innocence settling in her nose and dreams clouding her brain.

“You’re my best friend too.”

They stayed like that for a while, maybe longer than it felt because Daenerys had time to come back out and awkwardly pause when she saw them hugging. Sansa lifted an arm off Jon’s back to wave Dany in and Jon’s platinum blonde girlfriend smiled prettily before joining them in a group hug.

It felt better than anything Joff had ever made Sansa feel. No contest.

Jon was the first one to break away. Sansa was bewildered and endeared when she realized Jon was getting choked up, looking away and coughing into the crook of his elbow to hide the sudden display of emotion. Dany sensed her boyfriend’s discomfiture and smiled conspiratorially at Sansa. While Dany wasn’t her best friend or anything, Sansa really liked the girl and wanted to be closer with her. She was beautiful and strong, and kind. She deserved a hug for that if anything else, so Sansa gave her one.

“Um, I’m glad we’re having a moment, but I came back out to let you know that Gendry and Arya are also having a bit of a moment, so maybe we should give them some space.” Dany glanced over at Jon as he was regaining his composure. “I was thinking we could go to that bar and grill you noticed on the road yesterday and guilt Sansa into paying?”

Sansa laughed.

“Alright, fine by me,” she said. “I just need to pee real quick and then we can go.”

Perhaps if Sansa had been a bit more emotionally stable, she would have thought about what Dany said. Perhaps if Sansa didn’t need to pee so badly, she would have waited to go at the restaurant and everything would be different. Perhaps if Sansa had listened as Dany suddenly and alarmingly tried to warn her not to go inside, Sansa wouldn’t have been scarred for life.

If, perhaps, maybe.

“Ohhhh… FUCK!”

“Uh, uH, UGH!”

Gendry was always a big guy, but at the moment he looked enormous as he stood behind the living room couch, thrusting slowly but sturdily. The woman’s stomach was draped across the back of it, her hair fanning out across the cushions. His hands looked huge around her hips, his thumbs only a few inches from each other across the girl’s spine, where just below was a tattoo of twinning green and golden roses.

Though Gendry wasn’t an exercise nut like Jon, lacking the carved-out abs, pectorals, and biceps that came from hours of living at the gym, his body just naturally looked strong. He was a big guy who mostly worked physical labor jobs his whole life, and it showed. The dark hair on his forearms, normally a turn-off for Sansa, only emphasized how broad they were. His hands, rough and callused, looked thick and nimble in a way that Sansa had never noticed before until now. His shoulders were even wider set than Harry’s! Gendry had always had a titanic presence when clothed, and seeing him naked now… he was practically godly.

Sweat worked itself down his neck and over his chest, small droplets that reflected the kitchen lights sprinkling onto the girl’s back. The girl, who was very obviously not Arya. While Sansa felt herself becoming aroused at the sight of this, she tempered those emotions with dismal fury. No matter how hot Gendry was, no matter how strong he looked, no matter how-

Holy shit his cock was fucking huge.

Like she could hear Sansa’s thoughts and vociferously agreed, the girl abruptly crooked her neck up, sending a wave of brunette curls away from her face as she glanced back at the culprit responsible for the harsh pounding she was receiving. She hadn’t even noticed Sansa in the room yet, though Gendry seemed to, even as his movements did not pause a bit. He frowned at Sansa and then gasped.

“Wait, wait, we have to stop-” he grunted, still nevertheless thrusting.

“No, please don’t, I’m almost there,” the girl moaned, until she noticed Sansa and gasped as well. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?!”

“I can’t- she doesn’t- oh FUCK!!” Gendry shouted to the ceiling.

“Wait, yes, yes! I feel it inside me! Fucking YES!!”

Suddenly Gendry did stop thrusting and instead started shaking, a violent vibration coursing through his hips and then his stomach before he collapsed onto the girl’s back. His arms, built like jet engine pistons and easily supporting both his and the girl’s weight before, loosened up like Jell-O. It was like witnessing a tower of flesh collapse in on itself after years of age and hard use.

_”He might be feeling good now, but I’m going to make him suffer for the rest of his life.” ___

__Sansa didn’t know where Arya was or what she was doing, but her little sister would never suffer a shitty boyfriend like Sansa had. Sansa forbade it. If this was how Gendry acted on vacation with his girlfriend’s family, then he was worse than Joff as far as she was concerned. The rage Sansa felt was for Arya, but the disappointment she felt came from her own personal feelings of betrayal. How could Gendry mislead them all so terribly? Sansa had always thought he was such a sweet boy._ _

__“How dare you?” Sansa started with that. “How could you do this to Arya? You fucking asshole.”_ _

__“Sansa?”_ _

__Hearing Arya’s voice, Sansa was snapped out of her red haze of wrath and looked away from Gendry and the woman’s moaning, groaning, sweaty forms._ _

__Only to see Arya standing behind Gendry, equally sweaty. Not only that, but she was completely naked save for underwear and she was standing on… an apple box? Sansa realized, after making a closer inspection, that it was indeed an old apple box. But those were not underwear that Arya was wearing. They looked more like… straps?_ _

__“Arya?”_ _

__“Uhhh….” Arya seemed to move, like she was trying to get off the apple box and walk up to Sansa, but she immediately paused when Gendry gave a loud groan._ _

__“Arya, wait. Sansa doesn’t kno- ah, ah…”_ _

__“Sansa?” This one came from the girl. “Sansa Stark?”_ _

__Without the red, sweaty frown of exertion on her face that came from being so close to orgasm, Sansa realized she recognized the girl._ _

__“Margaery?”_ _

__“Margaery?” Gendry asked, slowly standing as Sansa heard a soft, wet pop and Arya’s bare feet smacking on the hardwood floors as she stumbled off the apple box. “You told me your name was Alayne.”_ _

__“I- it’s complicated…”_ _

__Margaery, and Sansa was sure it was Margaery now, stumbled with her words a bit while Arya circled around the couch. Now Sansa could see clearly the six inches of purple, flexible tubing jutting out from her sister’s hips._ _

__“Arya?”_ _

__“Um… in my defense, the bed in our room was too small.”_ _

__*****_ _

__Apparently, despite having a very appealing everyman, rough-around the edges, dashing quality about himself, Gendry had lived a very solitary, lonely childhood. All the way through high school he didn’t have any friends (according to him), his parents had long left or passed away, and even after he graduated, it took a year for him to find his people. In that time, Gendry had gone on dates and took an interest in girls, but for the most part he hadn’t had much luck._ _

__Then he finally met and fell in love with a girl named Willow. She was tall with strawberry blonde hair, loved to play the piano, and went to nursing school. She was Gendry’s first and she was also the person he had most explored sex with, which was a blessing because the girl was both patient and experimental._ _

__A blessing because Gendry lived a life that most men thought they wanted, but one that was deceptively trickier than porn would teach you._ _

__You see, Gendry had a very, very large penis._ _

__Instead of casual hook-ups and the ability to get whatever woman he wanted though, Gendry lived his days mostly wearing uncomfortable pants. He had to buy a very specific type of underwear or risked public indecency charges. Sometimes if he became aroused when he was already tired, he would risk light-headedness and passing out. He even had trouble achieving orgasm at least half the time because his prodigious sex organ required so much more blood than average to maintain an erection. Not to mention the stress of having to work ten times harder to ensure he wasn’t hurting his partner._ _

__Eventually Willow and Gendry broke up, and she tried to tell him it didn’t have to do with his penis, which had made every sexual experience they’d ever had together at least a little painful, embarrassing, or both. Gendry however was filled with doubts. He couldn’t help but think that there was something wrong with his body and in turn with him. He felt unattractive and unwanted. He retreated further into himself and his self-pity._ _

__He dated one girl after that who showed him a trick that helped with some of Gendry’s performance issues and that trick was his good old prostate. Though strange to him at first, Gendry eventually grew to like it for the extra stimulation, which made it easier for him to have more consistent and satisfying orgasms during intercourse. It didn’t help with everything but it helped a little._ _

__Eventually when Gendry and Arya started dating, he became increasingly anxious as their relationship progressed. He was the older, more experienced one, yet all his experiences with sex came with so much baggage and effort. He wasn’t sure he wanted to put that on Arya. She liked to joke sometimes that she wanted his bigger package, with that air of self-confidence and nymphomania that Arya was so good at faking, but Gendry knew her better. She was wandering in the dark just as much as him and relying on Gendry to show her the way._ _

__It seemed like the end was in sight for their relationship and that panicked Gendry terribly because this one felt so much more real and different. He admitted to Dany while they were caving that he thought Arya might be the One._ _

__If his big fat dick didn’t screw everything up._ _

__“At this point in the story, I felt the boy was being ludicrously maudlin. It was a bit of a gamble, but I suggested something he could do as a sort of… educational alternative to regular intercourse. It would be satisfying for Arya, while also creating a bond of trust with her for Gendry that would help them both when it was time to do the deed.”_ _

__“And that suggestion was pegging?”_ _

__Dany’s eyes glimmered as she took a sip of her red wine, clearly delighted that she had shocked Sansa so much. As much as Sansa thought of herself as being open-minded, becoming only more so as she continued to live on the West Coast, this was frankly on a whole new level. It was hot… but also scary, and not a fun scary. And yet, if it worked for Gendry and Arya… who was she to judge?_ _

__“Not just pegging, but cooperative play,” Dany continued after she was satisfied with Sansa’s embarrassment. “You see, Gendry’s biggest worry was about Arya, not just that he didn’t want to hurt her but that he wanted to make her feel good.”_ _

__“Well… and Arya is a very petite girl,” Sansa said, shuddering to think of herself taking the giant monster she had witnessed between his legs._ _

__Then she reminded herself that that type of thinking was exactly what Gendry had agonized and fretted over for so long, and Sansa felt a small singe of guilt from that._ _

__“Yes, but I told him, if a vagina can stretch for a baby it can certainly do the same for him. He just needs to learn Arya’s pace and everything will be fine. And what better way for him to learn her pace than for her to just show him herself. Maybe with a little help from a more experienced, female perspective.” Dany finished her glass and placed it on the table, reaching for the bottle to pour herself another._ _

__“I was hinting at myself of course, but then we met Alayne on the way to the lodge, and she said she had some experience with a comparable situation. I suggested that Gendry discuss it with Arya and that’s all I suggested, I swear. I had no idea the discussion would go so well.”_ _

__Sansa felt dazed and so sipped at her own glass of wine. She and Daenerys were sitting at the dining table in their cabin, a bottle of Pinot between them, the alcohol helping to settle her nerves. After everyone screamed at each other in shock for a few minutes of general mayhem and panic, things ultimately settled down into naked awkwardness. Though that had been almost an hour ago, Sansa felt like she was still flashing back to that moment._ _

__“So, now I’ve reported on everything that happened, as promised,” Dany said. “It’s your turn. What’s your connection to Alayne? Is her name actually Margaery?”_ _

__“Her middle name is Alayne, but I always knew her as Margaery.” Sansa swirled the red liquid in her glass, letting herself get lost in the smooth waves and ripples as she tried to think of where it was best to start. “She was my big in our sorority at KLU, but she was also my best friend for a while. We did everything together my first year and I liked her so much. She was always so cool and confident and she loved to help me dress up and… I was kind of in love with her, you know? Not like, romantically but…”_ _

__“She betrayed you.” It wasn’t a question._ _

__“After I broke up with Joffrey, everyone in the sorority, all of my so-called friends, turned on me. Started spreading rumors about me. Lying about me. Joff said I cheated on him and acted like a crazy person our whole relationship, saying things like I stalked him and sent him creepy texts or something. I thought it was fine, that everyone would understand that Joff was lying, but then Margaery believed him.”_ _

__“It’s always disappointing when women let other women down,” Dany said, and Sansa was glad she did it so Sansa could stop thinking it._ _

__“I just couldn’t understand why she would believe him over me, after everything I told her, after everything she witnessed Joffrey do. I thought at least one person would speak up for me and I had hoped it would be her. She was the chapter president and once everyone knew she believed Joff over me, it’s like that decided it for everyone else. She just… it was easier for her that way, I realize now. She never really cared about me. I was just a… passing distraction for her or something. She didn’t owe me anything._ _

__“A week after we broke up, she started dating Joff.”_ _

__Dany sighed, her nostrils flaring as her lips pinched together so hard they became white. Even though Sansa wasn’t finished with her current glass, Dany picked up the bottle and poured, topping Sansa off with more than she wanted but definitely not more than she would drink. Putting the bottle down, Dany leaned forward with her hands steepled in front of her face._ _

__“I am so sorry for that Sansa. Truly. You don’t have to deal with her. I’ll make sure she leaves and you won’t have to talk to her.”_ _

__Sansa smiled in gratitude but said nothing. Taking a long drink from her wine, she thought again about that day, after everything. After Joffrey, after Petyr, after her life felt like it was over. She’d needed to grab some clothes she left at the chapter house before she caught her flight back to Connecticut, back to home. She had purposefully waited until the middle of the day to visit, when most of the sisters would be in class and Sansa wouldn’t have to face them._ _

__Only Margaery was there._ _

__“He’ll hurt you Margaery, just like he hurt me,” Sansa had pleaded with her former friend one last time, ready to show her the bruise Joff gave her on the night she told him it was over._ _

__But Margaery turned away and would not look._ _

__“I don’t know where those bruises came from. You probably had one of your other boyfriends give it to you for all I know. Joff is too classy to say it, but you have a real lying problem Stark.”_ _

__And until today, that was the last time Sansa ever saw her._ _

__Margaery finally left Gendry and Arya’s room, though now fully dressed. She was wearing a light green blouse made of a slightly translucent material with a zip-up leather mini-skirt and knee-high grey boots. It was a basic going out on the town outfit, though Margaery of course made it look spectacular. That much about her had stayed the same._ _

__“Well, the two of them are still changing and so I thought um… well, it was nice to meet you Daenerys.” Dany answered with a cold stare. “Alright then, I… tell Gendry I had an enjoyable time if he asks, and tell Arya um… well, never mind.”_ _

__For a moment it seemed like she wanted to say something else but her eyes flickered to Sansa and then away. Margaery brushed her hair over her head with one hand, the thick body of tresses masking her face from both of them as she glanced down at the floor. Her lips were pursed in discomfort but Margaery wasn’t an embarrassed and blushing mess like she was half an hour ago. Margaery had never cared if someone saw her naked, Sansa remembered. So whatever shame she was feeling was entirely of her own making._ _

__Deciding something, Margaery nodded at them both and strolled away, the heels of her boots awkwardly clunking on the hardwood as she went. Margaery had turned her back on Sansa the last time they saw each other, and now a year later Margaery was doing it again. It suddenly felt so unfair and wrong._ _

__“Wait,” Sansa said, surprising everyone as she stood up._ _

__Margaery gave an apprehensive sigh but turned on her heel without missing a beat. She’d been expecting this it seemed. Daenerys took Sansa by the wrist but Sansa gently brushed her fingers aside. She wanted this. A year ago, seeing Margaery would have made Sansa weep but now she just felt numb._ _

__Even now Sansa marveled at Margaery’s beauty, she just couldn’t help it. Big, brown, doe eyes, a crooked little smile that made it look like she was always biting her lip. The small beauty mark on her chin, right below the attractive dimples of her cheeks. She looked innocent when she smiled, devilish when she laughed, and breathtaking when she stared at you. She had enraptured Sansa. She enraptured everyone she met. She was like sexy quick sand._ _

__Past the beauty though, past Sansa’s gilded memories and foggy recollections, she saw other things too. Like Joff, Margaery had newly-developed bags under her eyes. Her once flawless, portrait-like skin was a little greasy, and not from sweat, but from stress and neglect. Those wide, enticing eyes, were pinched with crows-feet and beheld a shifting, moving skittishness that had never been there before._ _

__She looked weary._ _

__“Look, say what you need to say, okay? I can take it.”_ _

__“Has he hurt you?” Sansa blurted out. “Are you alright?”_ _

__“Am I- am I alright?” Margaery looked like Sansa had asked her to grab a tit and start milking. “What does- what do you care? I- I betrayed you, I-I fucked you over so completely you had to transfer schools, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”_ _

__“Well, I transferred for a lot of reasons-”_ _

__“I hated you, you know that? You were so pretty and smart and so much better at making people… I don’t know, feel better. Some of the girls were already talking about you becoming chapter president, and I had just started!” Margaery shook her head and licked her lips, her eyes starting to glisten. “It wasn’t fair. I fucking hated you so much, I mean, not all the time but… I was supposed to be with Joffrey. I’d hooked up with him a few times and he, he kept promising that he would break up wit-”_ _

__Margaery’s pursed her lips and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, shuddering as the first tear dropped. The second quickly followed. Even after all this time, after months of fantasizing that Margaery would get what was coming to her, to have her suffer as Sansa had suffered, Sansa could only notice how beautiful she looked even when crying. Sansa wanted to comfort her, hug her. She wanted her old friend to feel better._ _

__Dany stayed strong._ _

__“You were going to take him, is that it? Joffrey was supposed to dump Sansa for you and make it clear to everyone else who the winner was,” Dany showed her fangs, standing up from the table to block Sansa from Margaery’s sight. “Well you didn’t win, all you did was lose Sansa and I pity you for that.”_ _

__Sansa was touched that Dany was defending her so passionately. It made Sansa feel warm even as the cold truth of what Margaery was saying flooded her mind. The whole time Sansa had thought of Margaery as an older sister figure, the girl who could show her the ropes of college life and maybe giggle with her about secrets late at night._ _

__That wasn’t how Margaery ever saw it?_ _

__“You’re right… you’re absolutely right.” Margaery wiped at the tears with her thumb. “I won and my prize was Joffrey, so I guess the joke ended up being on me.”_ _

__Sansa wanted to ask but Margaery answered before she could._ _

__“No, he doesn’t hit me, or anything like that. He doesn’t need to. Why would he? He has total control over my life now and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I have to do whatever he says. I have to let him treat me like garbage until… until maybe one day, maybe he’ll get bored enough to cut me loose. I’m trapped while you’re free… and you ask if I’m alright?”_ _

__“I just… we were friends once.” Sansa didn’t know what else to say. “Won’t he be mad about Gendry?”_ _

__“Oh, I look back with fondness on the days when Joffrey cared enough to actually get mad when I cheated on him,” Margaery said. “Now both of us are just numb to it. We both cheat, we both know it, and we both aren’t going to be stopping anytime soon.”_ _

__“Then just break up with him, what’s wrong with you?” Dany snapped._ _

__“I can’t! He…” Margaery looked at Dany and seemed to come to some sort of decision, bolting out of the dining room toward the front door._ _

__But as Margaery tried to once again leave Sansa’s life without so much as looking at her, fate saw fit to intervene this time._ _

__“I’ve got eats!” Jon shouted as he came in, stopping Margaery in her tracks. “Oh hello, didn’t mean to startle you. Are you staying for dinner? Hey, are you crying?”_ _

__Sansa felt some pity for her former friend when the maelstrom of activity started up again with her in the center. Jon was carrying three different bags of fast food, one with burgers, one with tacos, and one with fried chicken, and Arya and Gendry popped out of there room shouting about how hungry they were before taking all three bags from him. The couple didn’t even really notice Margaery. They just frantically dumped out and then rifled through the piles of pre-packaged food._ _

__“No wonder guys are hungry all the time, thrusting is hard work on the abs,” Arya grunted as she shoved half a taco in her mouth, handing Gendry a mustard packet as he unwrapped a burger._ _

__“Oh hey Alayne, you decided to stay?” Gendry said around a mouthful of red meat and lettuce while he poured a string of yellow mustard over an unwrapped hot dog._ _

__Margaery tried to fake it and wave at Gendry but the moment she opened her mouth nothing came out. She swallowed and tried again but her smile blew away like wilted rose petals, her hand pressed to her mouth as she started weeping, shoulders shaking with sorrow. Even Daenerys took a step back when Margaery’s shoulders started jerking and weaving. Finally she steadied herself against the wall with one hand._ _

__Arya and Gendry paused their feasting, stunned at Margaery’s breakdown. Dany scoffed but Sansa thought there was guilt in her face too. Jon’s expression was blank. She couldn’t tell what it was but Sansa knew that Jon was focusing on something, something about Margaery. He could read people’s body language better than Sansa could but she still had some idea of what he saw._ _

__Pain._ _

__Sansa was familiar with pain._ _

__She walked over to Margaery and hugged her, the delicate material of her blouse wrinkling against Sansa’s cotton Oldtown sweater. Margaery accepted the hug, pressing her face into the crook of Sansa’s neck and Sansa could feel Margaery’s tears as they trailed down her collarbone and between her cleavage. She rubbed her hands over Margaery’s back, whispering that it would all be alright._ _

__It was a bit of a blur, no one moment stuck out and so it seemed like time stood still, but after a while Sansa was on the couch with Margaery pinched close at her side, Gendry and Arya sitting on the other end of the couch. Dany’s righteous fury had cooled down a bit and she sat with Jon on a sofa near them, the fast food laid out on the living room table for everyone to take freely. At first that meant mostly Arya and Gendry scarfing food down but eventually Jon took a taco and Dany had some chicken. Even Margaery drank some water and ate some fries._ _

__Then when she was calmed down enough, she started talking about Joffrey._ _

__“He’s always had a sick little obsession with watching girls, peeping on them, wanting to make videos of them. I never let him do it with me though. I mean I liked him but I wasn’t stupid. I thought that was it, just a kink of his, but I guess Joff couldn’t contain himself forever because then he started filming girls without their consent. He even put up cameras in some of the rooms at the chapter house.”_ _

__“I saw the footage,” Sansa said, remembering her horror when she saw an HD recording of herself sleeping in her sorority dorm room. “I tried to warn everyone. I even tried to find some of the girls in the videos… but by then…”_ _

__“By then I’d smeared you so much, no one would believe anything you said.” Margaery started sobbing a little but this time Arya reached over and rubbed her back as well and she found the strength to continue._ _

__“I didn’t know about any of this, not until it was too late. I don’t think he planned for this when he started, but Joff eventually realized that filming girls could be more than just a sick thrill. He had footage of some of the sisters doing drugs in their rooms, cheating on their boyfriends, that sort of thing. There was even one girl who confessed to a hit and run on tape, just with a parked car, but it would have cost her parents a fortune. I… he filmed that in my room. She had come to my room to-to confide in me._ _

__“By the time I found out what he was doing, he’d already started blackmailing them.”_ _

__Jon stood up and walked to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of whiskey with a picture of a white dragon on the front. He placed two glasses on the table and filled them both halfway, picking one up for himself and nodding at Margaery to take the other. She slurped up about half but that made her cough so bad she needed some more water after. Then she took another sip and it went down smoother. Some steadiness was back in her spine._ _

__“He made my girls, my sisters, young women I love, into his own personal whores. I couldn’t even protect them because, well… I-I mean he wasn’t raping them-”_ _

__“Blackmail is rape by coercion,” Jon interrupted._ _

__“I know, I know, but when I tried to make him stop he… he showed me the footage he had of me,” Margaery hiccupped. “My family are good people, but they can’t… they aren’t very tolerant of certain behavior and I- I was…”_ _

__“You don’t have to tell us,” Sansa said._ _

__Margaery smiled and nodded before continuing. “I have to do what he says. I told him at the time, he should just break up with me. What was the point? He didn’t even want me anymore, not really, but he… he said that he owns me now. I’m t-trapped.”_ _

__Sansa felt like crying. Arya looked livid. Jon’s expression was still blank._ _

__“And he’s getting worse. He finally has everything he could ever want, no one can say no to him, and he can’t appreciate any of it. He’s already rich and about to inherit even more from his father’s estate, but I guess it’s not enough for him because recently he’s been getting into a really bad scene. Not just selling drugs but the girls, he… he makes the girls sell themselves to…”_ _

__“Oh gods.”_ _

__For the first time Dany’s suspicion and defiant dislike of Margaery shriveled away into pale horror. Sansa kept thinking about how she used to joke with Joffrey that if he was a good boy, she would give him a treat which usually included some form of oral sex. Once in a while, after they did have sex, Joff would joke that he could make a lot of money bottling and selling such an experience._ _

__It all felt playful at the time but now Sansa wondered._ _

__“More dangerous is that he’s just a fucking idiot,” Margaery continued. “He’s already gotten into some scary confrontations with actual criminals, but he keeps pretending that he has it all under control. Half the time they tolerate him because he gives them girls and the other half because they know he has money, but they’re constantly mocking him and taking advantage of him, and most of the time they do it in ways where Joff doesn’t even understand what’s happening._ _

__“But when he does understand, he doesn’t make them stop. Instead he takes it out on me or his sister. It’s like he needs their approval and is willing to debase himself in any way to-”_ _

__“He does it to his own sister?” Sansa interrupted, struck with a horrific vision of Myrcella being abused and sold by her brother to men with even less restraint._ _

__“No, not like that. I think Myrcella is the one girl that Joff actually sees as more than a convenient pussy for him to monetize. In his eyes she’s some fucking pure little angel who can do no wrong, and so every time Myrcella wants to explore anything that isn’t 100% chaste in his mind, which is basically anything, he thinks it must be the influence of one of his new criminal friends trying to take advantage of her. Someone trying to turn her out to hurt him.”_ _

__“Is that actually a risk?’ Jon asked, speaking for the first time in a while and making Margaery pause in thought. “Do these friends of his actually threaten to do something to his sister?”_ _

__“I don’t really know,” Margaery admitted. “Maybe that’s just an excuse he uses to be cruel to her. He was never kind, but recently he just constantly yells at her and calls her terrible things. Some days he doesn’t even let her out of the house, and meanwhile their mother is so focused on Tommen that she doesn’t even see it. She even takes Joff’s side and helps him slut shame her. Her own daughter! Thank the gods she’s going to college far away from both of them. He actually had the gall to ask me if Myrcella could join my sorority at KLU, like he’d forgotten that he already turned some of my girls into his… into his…”_ _

__Margaery started to cry again as Arya looked away, chewing on her lip. Sansa remembered how tough her sister had been on Myrcella, but knowing now how debased Joff had become, it made sense that Arya would rethink her judgement. If the one man in Myrcella’s life was telling her such things, treating her in such a way, it was a wonder the girl wasn’t a bigger basket case._ _

__“Ala- Margaery, I’m so sorry,” Gendry said. He stood up and knelt in front of her, taking her smaller hands into his own and frowning. Margaery was blushing and crying and gratefully ran her hand through Gendry’s hair. “If I had known-”_ _

__“No, no, please don’t worry,” Margaery sniffled. “It had been a while since I was with anyone, so it was nice to be with you. And Arya, of course,” Margaery quickly added but Arya was too lost in a storm of anger to notice. “You reminded me of my high school boyfriend a little. He was handsome and strong like you, and it made me feel nice to… to remember that time. Seeing you and Arya together reminded me of what it was like when I was with him.”_ _

__“But with less butt stuff,” Arya said, her voice sounding so flat that Sansa didn’t even realize it was a joke until Margaery laughed._ _

__“Well, Renly ended up being gay, so you’d be surprised.” Sansa and everyone laughed at that, the tension breaking a bit from the room._ _

__Until Dany spoke._ _

__“We have to stop him.”_ _

__Margaery’s smile vanished and her face turned a sickly, cottage cheese color as she started immediately shaking her head and babbling. Jon frowned at Dany but she consciously ignored him, standing up so that everyone was watching her now. Except for Gendry. His eyes were still sad and focused on Margaery as he held her hands, her only anchor in this storm of madness._ _

__“We can’t, I told you, it’s not just me. He has compromising videos-”_ _

__“It’s only going to get worse,” Dany said. “What do you think is going to happen? That one day, one of these criminals will scare him off? Or maybe he’ll get bored of being a drug dealing pimp? Men who can’t accept no, who are never told no, don’t wake up one day and suddenly get better. They only get worse. He will get worse.”_ _

__Even though Margaery was growing more and more terrified at every word, and Jon’s frown began to grow into genuine distaste, Sansa had to quietly agree with what Dany was saying. Joffrey, at his core, was just a bully. Bullies didn’t go away if you were careful enough or good enough. You could never be good enough. All you could do was confront them._ _

__Still…_ _

__“Even if you’re right, what do we do, kill him?” The room turned toward Sansa in shock. “Think about it Dany. You’re right of course, Joff is only going to get worse. But how much do you think he’ll deteriorate if anyone, let alone a woman, hurts him? Humiliates him? He’ll inevitably retaliate. Joff doesn’t believe in mercy or even basic self-preservation when it comes to his ego. When he wants to hurt someone, that’s his focus, and if he can’t hurt the right person, he’ll just hurt the most available person.”_ _

__“Which could be Margaery. Or worse, someone innocent like Myrcella,” Jon chimed in._ _

__“WE CANNOT LET THIS STAND!” Dany shouted, making the room jump._ _

__Jon however was unfazed. “Hurting him is not the same thing as helping those girls Daenerys.”_ _

__Like a burst of flame, Dany went from blindingly hot to instantly cool, sitting back down with a huff and laying her face in her palms. It took Sansa a moment to realize that Dany was trying to keep herself from crying. Somehow, rather than making her feel hopeless or depressed, this ignited something in Sansa’s own belly. There was a time when she felt powerless to stop Joffrey too. He seemed so controlling, so all-consuming in his presence. Sansa couldn’t help but wilt to his will._ _

__But that was when she was in high school, when she thought Joff hung the stars in the sky. The man she saw today was unbalanced, unhinged… predictable. Someone who went to violence that quickly was a man with very few good instincts. Sansa was remembering all of Joff’s little ticks and foibles, and she realized that even then, she’d always been subconsciously studying him. Learning to predict his moods. She had needed to learn how to avoid his wrath, how to keep him from flying over the edge… how to keep him from getting distracted._ _

__The pieces began to form._ _

__“Dany, what would you do to punish Joff? What kind of things have you done before?”_ _

__She sniffed. “Well… it depended, but it usually involved some form of humiliation or… why are you asking? I thought hurting him was off the table?”_ _

__“Well, maybe… but what would you think of a plan like this?”_ _

__Sansa broke down the idea she had, forming the logistics even as she spoke. Her understanding of Joff’s psyche was almost second-nature to her now and every time she got to a part of the scheme where she was stuck for ideas, Dany and Arya would make suggestions both helpful and outlandish, until Sansa decided on something and continued. By the time she finished explaining, Dany looked intrigued, Arya looked confused but curious, and Jon wasn’t frowning anymore._ _

__Margaery reacted first. “That… that could work. It would hurt Joff but also put him in a checkmate. He wouldn’t be able to blackmail anyone without implicating himself.”_ _

__“Whoa, wait,” Gendry said, placing a hand on Margaery’s shoulder in support. “This weird plan involves you… erm…”_ _

__“Well, as I already proved, I don’t mind a little fun.” Margaery gave Gendry a saucy wink and even glanced in Jon’s direction before thinking better of it. “Besides, if it means making Joffrey suffer and getting rid of him too, I’d fuck Pate the fucking Pig Boy if needed.”_ _

__“It’s a little less aggressive than what I had in mind…” Dany pondered. “But perhaps sometimes there is a time for subtlety. I’m in.”_ _

__“Me too!” Arya piped up._ _

__Gendry nodded once he seemed assured that Margaery was holding strong, so only Jon was left._ _

__“Jon?”_ _

__“If we do this… we do it right,” he finally said. “To be clear, we are not coming up with the best way to humiliate Joffrey. The objective is to use his humiliation as a distraction to get what we really want. If we all remember that and we all promise not to take any unnecessary risks… then I’m down.”_ _

__“Wow, even the goody-two-shoes is in,” Arya laughed._ _

__Sansa remembered Dany’s words. “Jon thinks of himself as a reformed bad boy,” she’d said._ _

__Well maybe it was time to wake the bad boy back up._ _

__“Jon is right. We need to be smart, not resentful. Now let’s go over the plan one more time.”_ _

__*****_ _

__**JOFFREY** _ _

__The driveway was bumpy and filled with gravel, a sign of cheap cost-saving that made him realize that this was probably the poor side of town. Not poor, poor, like disgusting street shit poor, but the kind of poor that Joffrey despised even more in a way for being so phony as to pretend they were rich. It was just desperate and pathetic. Most people were._ _

__He couldn’t see why Margaery had texted him to pick her up here, especially since she was driving his truck the last they saw of each other. Maybe if she wrecked it, he would release that video of her lezzing out with that freakish dyke Professor Tarth. Maybe even if the car was fine, he would just release it for shits and giggles._ _

__Making Margaery cry was about the only pleasure she gave him anymore. He had made a lot of girls cry in his life, usually when he fucked ‘em good and hard until they were crying for their mommies to help them make the pain stop, but making Margaery cry… mmm, there was something sweeter about her tears._ _

__Almost slipping on some ice along the way (would show these ingrates right if he sued them) Joffrey reached the front door and pressed a button but didn’t hear a doorbell. He started banging on the varnished wood to be safe. Margaery’s text had mentioned that she’d made some new friends and went back to their cabin for drinks and Joff noted the lack of gender she assigned to these new friends._ _

__Though with a lesbo like Margaery, it didn’t really matter. She’d probably fuck anything. The slut. If she got too flirty, maybe he would release the video. Remind her what’s what._ _

__The door opened and a girl with white hair and purple eyes stood there in a fucking hot-ass lingerie thing. It was a white dress sort-of, but see through with strings going over the chest and stomach. It only went to midthigh and all the see-through parts showed only skin and a skimpy white thong underneath. The girl was barefoot with white toenails and in his nice brown leather dress shoes, Joffrey was satisfied by how he towered over the girl._ _

__“Yes?” she asked softly._ _

__“I’m… I’m looking for Margaery,” Joffrey said after a pause. “She’s my g- my friend. She told me to pick her up here.”_ _

__“Oh Margaery? I love her.” The sexy little skank smiled. “Yeah, she was here with Jon a few hours ago but they left. They said they’d be back soon. Do you want to come inside and wait?”_ _

__For a moment Joff wasn’t sure he heard her right. In his experience beautiful women didn’t just invite him into their house, not unless he’d made clear who was the boss first. The girl ran a finger down her outfit, splitting open the see-through material and exposing the bare stomach underneath. She kept staring at him like a bitch in heat._ _

__“Sure, why not?” Joff said, charming her with another smile._ _

__He walked inside and saw that it was just as cheap as he imagined. One of those rental cabins that people would stay in for a week, trash, then leave having felt like they went camping but not really. Joff knew that these people would be jealous if they found out his family owned a cabin up here that he could visit anytime he wanted._ _

__So he told the girl that. Predictably she acted impressed, brushing aside strands of her hair from her face and rubbing her hand on his chest whenever Joff said something funny. He was funny._ _

__He had the bitch practically begging to suck his cock when another interesting target came into the room. The white-haired girl (shit, she’d told him her name but he couldn’t remember it now) was petite but in that sort of bigger-boobed way, where if she wasn’t careful, one day she would get fat and become one of those squat, basketball-shaped bitches that Joff liked to laugh at on the treadmills._ _

__This girl on the other hand, straight-up looked like a little girl and Joff was fucking into it. Even though she was wearing women’s lingerie, a black version of the “babydoll” or whatever the white-bitch had called it, (that’s what he would call her for now, “white-bitch”) he could tell this this was one of those petite girls who would be skinny no matter what she did because she still really had a kid’s body. Her chest was practically flat and even though her ass had a little meat to it, her hipbones were visible and her ribs jutted out. She looked fragile._ _

__Fragile things always break differently, he mused in thought._ _

__For a split-second, as he stared at this new girl coming into the room, Joff thought he saw a flicker of… something in the girl’s eye. He wasn’t sure. It was like the look she gave him sent shivers of danger up his spine, but she was just some skinny whore with a dyke haircut. He would fuck her if she made it easy, but otherwise he probably wouldn’t bother. It was nothing._ _

__“Who’s our new friend?” the dark-bitch, new nickname, asked._ _

__“Joffrey. He says he’s waiting for Margaery to come back,” the white-bitch said. “So he’s bored like us, with nothing to do and no one to play with.”_ _

__The dark-bitch joined them both on the couch, sitting on Joff’s other side. Wanting to fuck with her, Joff crooked his finger at the dark bitch, indicating that she move closer. The dark-bitch seemed like she was going to protest but then gave him a smile before scooting over. Now he had an arm around both of them and it made him feel like a fucking king._ _

__“Maybe Joffrey here brought us a toy to play with,” The dark-bitch said before brushing her hand up his leg. Joff started to become uncomfortable with how fast things were going but before he could protest, the white-bitch said something that made him want to let things play out._ _

__“Something like that isn’t a toy Mercy. It’s something to be protected, and worshipped, and respected,” she said. Joff felt himself getting hard at her words. He was about to tell the white bitch to take a look if she liked it so much, but then he thought of something clever and that almost never happened, so he had to say it._ _

__“Your name is really Mercy?” Joff asked. The girl looked surprised but nodded. “I bet I can make you say your name.”_ _

__“What?” the dumb bitch asked, ruining his joke. Dumb fucking cunt._ _

__“Never mind,” he grumbled. The doorbell rang._ _

__“Maybe that’s them,” the white-bitch said with a little jiggle in her tits, prancing over to the front door while Mercy kept looking at him like she was confused. She kept asking him to explain the joke but Joff learned a long time ago that explaining the joke never worked. He was smart like that. She needed to shut the fuck up and quick._ _

__“Oh it’s the woodcutter!”_ _

__In walked one of the biggest, strongest-looking guys that Joff had ever seen. For a second he worried that these dumb bitches didn’t understand that they were about to be raped, but then the guy blushed as the white bitch dragged him into the room and Joff understood that he was probably some white knight “nice guy.” Guys like that were just pussies deep down. Joff had tougher friends than this guy. Now that he looked at him, the guy didn’t even look that strong, just kind of tall, sort of._ _

__“Thank the gods you’re here. We wanted to get a fire going but all the wood is too big to fit in the hearth.” The white-bitch said. “A problem I’m sure you’re very familiar with.”_ _

__The woodcutter laughed and blushed but Joffrey didn’t get why so he started to become angry._ _

__His anger lessened though when the white-bitch bent over to look into the empty fireplace, giving the room a good show of her ass in that thong. The woodcutter did some bitch move where he pretended like he wasn’t looking, even though he totally was. Joff openly took everything he could with his eyes, like a real Alpha._ _

__“Well that’s what the lodge, er the resort that owns this cabin that we- that you I mean, are currently staying at, er hired me for. Um, to cut the firewood, um, ma’am,” the idiot (he probably had a baby dick) woodcutter announced, like they needed him to explain his fucking dumbass job. He should have just left when he saw the women weren’t dressed._ _

__The guy walked over to the pile of wood that was by the fireplace. Joff wanted the white-bitch to come back by his side again but he knew if he asked she would lose respect for him. Then he would HAVE to hurt her to rebalance their relationship, he wouldn’t have a choice then._ _

__Not knowing how much danger she was putting herself in, the white-bitch hovered by the woodcutting guy as he worked and kept asking him questions or something. When the guy started to bring the wood outside, the white-bitch told him that he could do the cutting inside, and she handed him an axe that was leaning against the back door._ _

__When the guy picked up the axe, Joffrey suddenly felt very inexplicably uncomfortable and wanted to leave. It got worse when the guy asked if he could take his shirt off, claiming that cutting wood was hard work or whatever. The girls quickly agreed before Joffrey could protest, and at that point the guy had already taken his shirt off so Joff felt it wasn’t necessary to say anything. He didn’t really care. Just chop the wood and go, he thought._ _

__The woodcutter must have been terrible at his job because it took him forever. Every time Joff thought the guy was done and he might start to leave, the girls would ask for him to do more. By the time he finally stopped, claiming that he was growing tired and sweaty (like they couldn’t all see that the weakass bitch!) both girls had become sloppy bitches, staring and drooling and debasing themselves like common whores for the fucking asshole. The dark-bitch even went so far as to say that the woodcutter needed a shower now, and offered her own._ _

__“Maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea,” the woodcutter said, being smart for once in his life._ _

__“He’s right,” the white-bitch said, walking back to Joff and kneeling by him on the couch, almost pressing her soft tits into his cheek as she spoke to the dark-bitch. “We can’t let these fine men use our showers, not until we’ve used them first and gotten the water nice and warm for their big, beefy muscles, don’t you think Mercy?”_ _

__“Mercy, mercy me, I think you’re right,” she said, staring into the woodcutter’s eyes as she walked up to him and rubbed a hand over his pathetic attempt at a six-pack. “These men work hard… and we should work even harder. I can respect that.”_ _

__“Then let’s retire to the bedroom and we can all brainstorm ideas on how to best reward these sexy hunks who have come into our lives.”_ _

__Joff and the woodcutter were speechless. The white-bitch joined Mercy and they linked hands before turning on both of them, their thong-covered asses looking mighty fuckable as they pranced away to their bedroom. There was a little bit of drool coming down his lip that Joff had to quickly wipe away on his sleeve. It was finally time. After what seemed like forever, he was going to fuck these slutty bitches._ _

__Until suddenly Joff was grabbed by the arm. The woodcutter had a monstrous hand on him and when Joff tried to pull away, he yanked Joff closer. There was a flash of being head-butted, of having to go to the emergency room, the doctor setting the bone back in place as tears streamed down his face._ _

__He shook that off and looked down. The woodcutter was still holding the axe in one hand, his palm over the bottom of the handle as he leaned on the axe-head. The metal scraped lightly on the hardwood floor, the sound sending shivers up Joff’s spine._ _

__A little bit of pee slipped out._ _

__“Hey man, let’s get one thing straight,” the woodcutter growled, the shy pussy from before suddenly replaced by a fucking animal, like a fucking dumb giant wanting to crush Joff in his hand. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, okay? Once in a lifetime, you hear me?”_ _

__“Ye-yeah, I get it,” Joff said, nodding and smiling to show that he could take a hint._ _

__“Alright, then don’t fuck this up for us, okay?” the woodcutter said, smiling at first but the smile slowly disappeared as his grip tightened to the point of pain._ _

__Joff wished more than anything that this guy could know who he was dealing with. He had a whole stable of bitches at his beck and call. He had friends who had shot people before and gone to jail for it. Once even Joff had shot someone, though it was only a homeless guy and later he had a bodyguard bring the hobo to an emergency room, to avoid the police. That was actually how Joff got involved with the Greenfield Gang. They told him he couldn’t sell drugs for them until he shot someone for real, and Joff was glad to do it. Although they hadn’t really told him to do it in words… they’d sort of “told him” with finger quotes, as Preston once explained._ _

__Just like in this moment, Joff was glad to do what needed to be done._ _

__“You know what?” he laughed. “Why don’t you just take them both man, have at it. My treat.”_ _

__It worked. The woodcutter smiled and smacked Joffrey across the head so hard that one of his fillings ached afterwards, but then he followed it up with a couple of rough pats on the shoulder so Joff knew it was just him fucking around. The woodcutter called him a really good guy, and actually offered Joff the chance to maybe double-team the girls together. Offered twice actually. But Joff knew better._ _

__“No, no, I insist, really. They’re yours.”_ _

__With one more harsh slap to the face, Joff’s cheek burning now and his hair horribly tangled, the woodcutter got up and walked down the hallway. Startling Joff, he literally kicked the door open to the screams and laughter of the bitches inside before smacking the door closed behind him._ _

__Joff waited two minutes, staring at his phone as the time ticked away before he snuck over to the doorway. He pressed his ear to the wood and held his phone up, ready to record._ _

__Until he heard what they were saying._ _

__“Bet you wish that little bitch was in here now,” the woodcutter said. There was a slow but harsh banging noise coming from the room, like wood scraping against wood and then running into a solid surface. “Bet his tiny little pecker would feel like a fucking vacation compared to this.”_ _

__“You’re so mean mister, he was just a curious little boy, that’s all. He’s probably never seen a real woman before.” It was the white-bitch’s voice._ _

__“He’s probably (ah) needle-dicked (ah) little cuck, (ah). Maybe hi- (ah) his balls haven’t (ah) dropped (ah), yet.” Mercy’s voice._ _

__Joff’s fury rose, so much so that he started quietly gasping and spitting, his face turning red as he restrained a scream, banging his fist against his own leg. Those fucking bitches, that fucking asshole bitch, motherfucking shit bags dammit._ _

__“Well, considering he didn’t stop me from taking you both, you’re probably right,” the woodcutter laughed._ _

__“He didn’t even try to fight you? Not even for one of us? Oh that poor baby, I should comfort him, he clearly needs a confidence boost, maybe even a mommy figure in his life.”_ _

__There were sounds of a commotion and Joff almost stood up to run back to the couch, but then he heard a startling creak and the white-bitch gasped. She made a few more noises and the woodcutter seemed to be saying something but it was too hard to hear. And then-_ _

__“AHHHHHHHHHHWWWWWOOOOOOOWWWWAGAAGAGAGAGAGAAAAAA HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOUR DICK IS HUGE!!! FUCK ME HARDER! HARDER!!!”_ _

__On instinct Joff cracked open the door. The woodcutter was sitting on the edge of a bed, the white-bitch bouncing furiously on his cock, except the girl wasn’t doing any of the bouncing. The woodcutter was holding her below the armpits and spiking her down like a volleyball on his lap. Not only was the white-bitch moving so fast that her face was a blur, but Joff could see now the fucking baseball bat that he was shoving up into her twat. He glanced down and saw, below the action, the woodcutter’s ass was hanging off the edge of the sheets as Mercy sat below, alternating between licking the woodcutter’s balls and the white-bitch’s taint._ _

__It made Joff feel ashamed and guilty and horny and all of that together just made him angrier. Why did jerks have to have all the luck? He was a nice guy. The white-bitch seemed to like him, why would she do this? Maybe women really were just big fucking sluts who needed to be fucked hard or they made dumbass fucking decisions._ _

__Joffrey was feeling it, a red haze. Usually when he felt like this, he called up one of his stable bitches to lay down on his bed, pre-lubed up of course, while he worked out his anger. Except those bitches were back on the East Coast, so how would he work out this impotent fury-_ _

__“Joffy?”_ _

__Like a blast from the past, Joff turned and saw Sansa Stark of all people._ _

__Perfect, he thought._ _

__*****  
**SANSA**_ _

__Perfect, she thought._ _

__As Joffrey tried to get himself hard, pulling on his dick with one hand while he held Sansa’s left ass cheek with the other, Sansa reflected on how easy he had made all of this for them. They’d come up with plans, contingency plans, emergency call signs and code words to indicate trouble covertly to one another… and hadn’t needed to use any of them. Joff hadn’t broken away from the plan once._ _

__He was just so easy!_ _

__Glancing at the smartwatch on her wrist that was connected to Dany’s phone, a key communication device that had proven to be an overly-cautious safeguard, she saw that the time was right. Everything should be set up by now so Sansa felt safe to move this to the next phase._ _

__“Please Joffy, I need you so bad baby, so bad, please fuck me. I’m begging you, please, please, please fuck me, I need it daddy…”_ _

__Pausing at the last word, Joff looked up at her face for the first time since he’d “convinced” her to come back to his place. He looked lost, like he didn’t even know how to react. It was certainly different dirty talk than she’d given him in high school, though not too far from the sort of things she’d said to Harry. She wondered if he understood that not being constantly slut-shamed by an abusive partner, had allowed Sansa to find a good balance with her sexual kinks and discover that she actually liked the dirtier, naughtier parts of sex._ _

__Boy, she thought again, Joff really screwed her up in high school._ _

__It was time to pay him back in turn._ _

__“Oh gods! Joff stop! Is that Margaery’s car?”_ _

__At first he seemed to recoil at the word ‘stop,’ but fortunately Joff wasn’t so far gone as to not pick up on what she said. Abandoning her ass for the moment, Joff walked over to the large window next to the computer set-up that faced the driveway. Though they’d been secretly parked a block away for over an hour, Jon made sure to flash the lights, making it easier for Joff to see._ _

__“Oh shit!” he shouted._ _

__“Joff, I should have told you before, but Jon has a bit of a temper,” she said, playing ignorant as Joff turned ghostly white, obviously remembering the way Jon had dominated him at the lodge. “He also… well, he has a license to carry a gun.”_ _

__“You’ve gotta leave, right-”_ _

__The front door banged open. “Sansa! Sansa are you in here!?”_ _

__Joff faced the bedroom door and moved to lock it, but she stopped him._ _

__“No, if you do that, Jon will know something is up with this room and he’ll just find a way inside,” Sansa said, keeping her voice calm even as she feigned dread. “We need to hide and hope he doesn’t find us, it’s the only way. You hide in the closet and I’ll hide in the bathroom. That way even if he finds us, he won’t immediately suspect that we’re fucking.”_ _

__“We- we didn’t fuck though,” Joff whined, completely missing the point._ _

__“Go in the fucking closet Joffy. Jon will be here any second and I don’t want him to hurt you.”_ _

__Letting his fear lead him, Joffrey took off for the closet, sliding the mirrored door open and slipping inside. Sansa shut the closet door for him, aware that it was a one-way mirror that allowed Joff a complete view of the bedroom. A nice little spy-hole, Margaery had called it. Aware of her audience, Sansa let herself freak out and faked a sob for a second before running off to the bathroom._ _

__Once inside, she cracked the door open to make sure she had a good view of the show._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 will come soon, and the smut will only get more intense.


	11. Chapter 11 - Cabin Fever (Part 3 of 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Plan to take down Joffrey begins to unfold with great success and embarrassing missteps, but ultimately Sansa will get what she wants... whatever that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this beast keeps growing. 
> 
> Good or bad, the way this story keeps getting longer and longer is at least a partial cause of the delay. I debated waiting until the whole story was completed, but I figured some of you have been waiting a long time so I would post this completed part at least for now. I'll have the last part of this Cabin arc done soon, and then we can all start moving toward the grand finale!

**DAENERYS**  
   
“Oh wait… I right there, yes oh, oh-ohhgghyesss...”  
   
A drop of sweat trailed down Dany’s scalp and into the corner of her eye, forcing her to close it against the salted sting. Gendry released her ribs from his calloused grip. She felt her skin pull against his from all the sweat and drool. The tight pressure she felt between her legs was almost stifling. Rolling her hips, Dany leaned forward and back again on her thighs.  
   
“You want more?” He grunted into her hair.  
   
“Maybe I can help.”  
   
She and Gendry watched as Arya worked her legs back into the purple strap-on. A scintillating image passed through Dany’s mind: Gendry brutally fucking her, his inner beast snapping the leash to pummel her poor bottom into ecstasy. All the while, Arya straining and struggling to fuck her boyfriend just as hard. 

_Yes, that would do quite well._  
   
Sadly, “No, no, we’d best not. We need to keep an eye on the clock so you can - oh, fuck!” 

Gendry froze in terror but Dany finished his work, rising up on her knees until only the tip was left. “I’m fine. As I was saying, we need to be ready when Sansa calls.”  
   
Arya sighed but nodded, letting the sex toy drop to her feet in a disappointed huff whilst Gendry growled with a mix of relief and fury at disentangling himself from between Dany’s legs. Without missing a beat, Arya handed Gendry his phone and a shirt, a quick joke on her lips that Gendry interrupted with a gratified pat to the girl’s butt. Pursing her lips and shoving him, Dany didn’t miss the blush that came over Arya’s face when Gendry teased her.  
   
She envied them.  
   
“Ugh, that was so much talking.” Arya opened her mouth and worked her lower jaw from side to side, now fully dressed in basketball shorts and one of Jon’s flannel button-downs and some pink ankle socks. “I want it noted that when you and I have sex for first time, you are to keep the talking to a minimum, okay handsome? I don’t need you interrupting my playlist.”  
   
“Noted. Wait, you want music playing for our first time?” 

“Yeah, I have goals set for which songs I want to orgasm to,” Arya laughed, which only made Gendry’s frown grow.  
   
They continued bickering as Gendry grabbed his truck keys while Arya picked up the survival backpack she had prepared. They’d gotten lucky so far, but it only took one mistake for The Plan to go sideways. Joffrey could become too suspicious, Sansa could let something slip, or worse. People were unpredictable, so Sansa and Jon had come up with a safety measure.  
   
While Dany and Arya had worked their seduction on Joffrey, Sansa sat outside watching. If anything got out of control, Arya or Dany could covertly signal Sansa and she would help them or call the authorities. Conversely, if something unexpected was about to happen from outside that Sansa could warn them about, she could text or signal them with a heads-up. Jon had called it “The Invisible Buddy System.” It allowed them room to take risks or improvise in the moment. Any one of them could rest easy in the knowledge that they had an extra pair of hands to assist at any given time.  
   
While Sansa would not be alone at the Lannister Cabin, Jon and Margaery wouldn’t be able to help her without giving The Plan away, so Arya would be the invisible buddy while Gendry acted as a sort-of emergency getaway driver. 

Dany had offered to help as well, but without a Westerosi driver’s license and no explainable reason for her presence at the cabin, she was forced to stay home and plan for the victory celebration. Not exactly the fire and blood that Dany had wanted to reign down on Joffrey Baratheon, but she accepted her part, confident that Jon would carry her wrath true and make sure the abuser suffered.  
   
Once the lovebirds drove away, Dany went into her bag of fun and pulled out a few bottles of rum and one flask of whiskey for Jon. She also grabbed a handful of dime bags, two bowls, a bong, and her special, electronic vaporizer that Sansa liked to use. While she was tempted to break out the special massage oil, Jon had forbidden her from using it after that blasted Halloween “orgy-party” as he’d called it, and Dany felt obligated to be a good girl for Jon Snow this week.  
   
She was cutting some apples for her Stormborn Sangria when Dany heard a car pull into the driveway. She tried glancing at her wrist, only to remember that Sansa had taken her smartwatch. Going off the oven clock instead, Dany saw that it was too early for the group to be back, so she assumed that something went wrong. Going over to the window, she stood on her tiptoes and shaded her eyes with her hand to get a better look.  
   
It wasn’t Gendry or Jon’s car, but Dany recognized the driver. A woman, she started fixing her makeup in the side-view mirror of her SUV, and Dany felt her heart skip twelve beats.  
   
She rushed to her bedroom and threw on one of Jon’s dress shirts and some sweatpants until she glanced at herself in the mirror. She immediately stripped bare again. This time she slipped into a tight but flattering scoop-neck cocktail dress with a matching black thong. She was debating between black flats or stilettos when the doorbell rang.  
   
“Hello? Anybody home?”  
   
Daenerys skipped barefoot to the front door and opened it.  
   
The girl from the ski lodge had a meek but eager look in her eye, hungry yet waiting for permission before she partook in dessert. Her hair was out of its ponytail and cascading over her shoulders in waves of golden sunshine that matched appealingly with the ivory babydoll sweater-dress she was wearing. The long bell sleeves overtook her fingertips, the ends of the fabric reaching the dress’s hemline and emphasizing her scrumptious petite stature. The hem of the dress was fluttering modestly above her knees, but the skirt’s material was so gauzy that it showed flashes of bare skin up to her shaded thighs. Completing the girl’s “ingenue” appearance were black ankle booties with two-inch heels that made her only slightly taller than Dany, though in bearing she was but a little girl to Daenerys Targaryen.  
   
Her face flickered with disappointment for just a moment, but she bounced back quickly with a cheery grin. It was startling how pearly white her teeth were. Her smile was like the tempting smell of fresh-baked bread that was still too hot to touch. The girl linked her hands behind her back, giving her posture a preening, youthful impression. Dany fell in love at first sight all over again.  
   
“Hello, my name is Myrcella, I’m an old family friend of Sansa Stark. Is she here?” The girl spoke in a crisp and proper tone, like she was addressing a schoolmarm. “Or… maybe Jon Snow? He um- I met him earlier today as well. Maybe he… he mentioned me?”  
   
“They’re not here right now…” Dany answered, her mind working a thousand different angles, her nipples hardening at all the possibilities.  
   
“But why don’t you come inside?”  
   
_So much for being a good girl this week._

*****

**SANSA**

Joffrey’s door burst open with a frightening bang. Jon came stomping inside like a father breaking up a rowdy slumber party. Sansa watched from a crack in the bathroom door, wondering why her brain went to that metaphor while Margaery did her part, pretending that she was equal parts terrified and aroused by every sudden and physical gesticulation that Jon made toward her. 

_”Very Harlequin Romance heroine.”_

“Where is he Margaery?” Jon growled as he checked under the bed. “You promised me that Joffrey would be here!”

Margaery leaned against the secret one-way mirror closet door. Joff was no doubt getting a good look at her skirt pressed against the glass, which was a useful distraction as Margaery flipped the lock on the outside of the door.

“I-I’m sorry Jon, really, I have no idea where he could be. He doesn’t really tell me-”

“You’re his girlfriend aren’t you?” Jon dramatically yanked the comforter off the bed, revealing ink black bedsheets underneath. “You’re telling me he runs around without even checking in with you?”

“I don’t-”

“Call him. Now.”

Margaery was quick to pull her phone out of the butt pocket of her denim skirt but as soon as it started ringing, Jon snatched the device to his ear. After a moment he smiled and like a viper, his arm shot out and wrapped around Margaery’s hip, her arms pressed against Jon’s shoulders to brace herself.

“Hi Joff, sorry I missed you. I just wanted to let you know, I’m over at your house with your girl Maggie. Say hi Maggie.”

Jon held the phone to Margaery’s lips for a moment so she could utter a timid hello before he took the receiver back. 

“She’s keeping me entertained, but if you want to make a deal about these assault charges you think you want to press against me, you better hurry. I get bored quickly. And when I get bored, I start getting ideas. Bad ideas.”

Jon hung up the phone and slipped it right between her breasts through the cleavage in Margaery’s green short-sleeve shirt. She pressed her fingers over his until he let go, catching the device from falling into her bra. Jon pulled his own phone out and started pacing the room, fishing around the end table drawers as it rang, feigning bored curiosity even as he found the drug drawer on his second try.

Sansa’s phone started to ring just as Jon revealed a small rectangular bag of white powder. Joffrey’s “Love Drug” Margaery had explained. A mixture of Cocaine, Vicodin, and Viagra that caused sex to be enhanced, at least according to some. Margaery had admitted to trying it, saying that it didn’t affect her that much more than regular cocaine but she had seen other people love it.

The key though was that according to Federal law, the mixture of heavily and differently regulated drugs made Joffrey’s possession of such substances a Class-A misdemeanor, but according to a recently passed California state law that Jon knew of; such mixing of substances represented a clear intent to sell and distribute, a Class-D Felony. AKA mandatory jail time. 

AKA the end of Joffrey’s predations once and for all for all women. AKA the reason Sansa felt confident to give Jon the go ahead with The Plan, even as a part of her screamed that this could only lead to guilt for herself later on. Revenge taken in such a savage way could never truly make sadness go away. It wouldn’t change anything.

Except it might feel good.

“Hi Jon.”

“Sansa,” Jon said to the room, keeping his focus on Margaery to avoid any suspicious glances at the bathroom door. “Where are you right now? I was just home and you weren’t there.”

“You’re doing great,” Sansa whispered. “Go easy on the whole ‘menacing villain’ thing though. Joff is already scared shitless of you.”

“Hmph, unbelievable,” Jon growled, less diabolical now and more extremely annoyed boyfriend. “You’re saying that you saw him earlier but that he left and you haven’t seen him since? Put Daenerys on.”

“Hold the drugs up more, I’m not sure Joff can see them from where you’re standing.”

“What do you mean Dany isn’t there?” Jon asked as he held up the baggie again, this time walking toward Margaery as if to show her for the first time, all the while shaking it in front of the closet.

In college Sansa had heard rumors that Joffrey was getting into the hard drug scene, but she’d always considered them false. Made up by the people who Joffrey had angered. To learn now from Margaery that even then, he’d already begun dabbling in cocaine and heroin, usually facilitated by Joffrey’s Lannister Family Emergency Black Card. Apparently Joffrey had figured out that girls with past dealings with such drugs were usually ripe candidates for blackmail.

Sansa’s guilt felt like a chip of ice between her teeth while she stood on hot coals, her body flushed with such stupid, animalistic anger.

“On second thought Jon, get pissed, like psycho abusive boyfriend angry.”

“Sansa, you tell Joffrey- no don’t you FUCKING lie to me, I know he’s with you, my filthy little fuckhole!!” 

Jon was shouting, grunting and stomping, it was a perfect fabrication of a man interrupting Sansa’s imagined hysterical protests, and out loud, she couldn’t help but jump back a bit in shock, giggling like a madwoman.

“Sansa, you tell Joffrey, that if he presses charges against me for assault, I’ll call the cops on his little drug supply and we can share a jail cell, clear?” Jon pocketed the drugs in his jacket, making sure to strip the leather outerwear off and place it by the unlocked window for Arya to snitch later. 

With that done, Jon walked back over to the bed and brushed a finger over Margaery’s collarbone, as if waiting for Sansa to finish speaking on the phone.

“Perfect. Thank you for the truth. You let Joffy know, that if he doesn’t come face me and take his punishment like a man, I’m going to take my recompense… the only other way.”

Jon hung up the phone, the cue for Margaery to begin hysterically weeping. Sansa cringed a bit at how fake her sobs sounded but reasoned that a sociopath like Joff wouldn’t know the difference. Margaery had always been a bit more of a Stock Trading Freak opposed to Sansa’s Theater Geek. 

Jon acted confused by her outburst, tenderly hugging Margaery to his chest. She accepted, wrapping her arms around his back and nestling her face into his neck. Silently, at that same moment, Margaery toed off her stiletto heels and kicked them under Joff’s bed, her knee rubbing between Jon’s legs.

“What’s wrong Maggie? Surely your loving boyfriend will come back in time to save you?” Jon asked, posing the question like a child who didn’t understand the subtext of the birds and the bees.

“You don’t know Joffrey at all,” Margaery sobbed, though Sansa noticed that she looked up at Jon with liquid eyes and blushed cheeks and barely any blotches to her pristine makeup. “You see, he’s a lot like you. He wants his revenge to be personal, and after you hurt him… he’s probably decided to take his revenge… and if he’s with your girlfriend…”

“I have three girlfriends,” Jon said, shocking Margaery like a soap opera character. “My longtime committed Sansa of course, her little sister Arya who sneaks in my bed when Sansa is asleep,” At that Margaery’s eyes widened even larger in astonishment. “And then there’s my stress relief fuck buddy, Daenerys. That blonde girl you met? Surely those two would help Sansa remember her loyal to me.”

Margaery sobbed and shook her head. “No, knowing Joff… he’s probably raping all three of them!”

Sansa felt her heart drop into her gut and be replaced by a flame of anticipation. This was it. The point of no return. Up until now, everything that unfoled had been Jon and Margaery’s goals: neutralize Joff from hurting Jon legally, get enough dirt on him to counter Margaery’s blackmail, and hopefully scare him straight in the process. Everything after this was Sansa’s plan. Sansa’s revenge.

Through Jon and Margaery.

The script she had imagined and laid out for everyone only hours earlier came to life like a play as Jon and Margaery remembered their lines and improvised where they didn’t. Sansa had imagined it like a dirty romance novel about dominance and master-slave play, but in the end Arya was right; it all ended up sounding like dialogue from a late-night softcore porn.

Jon gave it all the thespian skill he had, never stumbling once even as he had to say the most ridiculous threats and demented dirty talk. When he explained to Margaery that, since Joff had orgasmed three times with his women, one orgasm for each of them, Jon should then get to fuck her three times to completion, Jon almost blushed in shame and embarrassment. Margaery’s guiltless enthusiasm at the idea overrode any cracks in his performance however.

Margaery for her part seemed to be pulling a lot from her personal story to inform her character. She explained that she hated Joff but that she was seduced by his wicked, manful ways and unable to break away from him. And yet that same weakness in Margaery caused her to wilt every time Jon forced her to kiss him, or stripped an article of clothing off of her. She couldn’t help but reciprocate his passion. She just responded that way to masculine power, she explained in a few different ways to emphasize the point for their audience behind the glass.

Sansa glanced at her phone and saw that Joff had tried to call her twice and texted 17 times. She wished she could see his reactions but her imagined sufferings would have to do. Knowing he was so close, not only to her but the sex itself, gave Sansa an indescribably visceral thrill.

After Margaery had successfully convinced Jon that Joff was back at their cabin having a rapacious four-way with all of his girlfriends, Jon grimly but hungrily demanded that Margaery pay the price for her boyfriend’s crimes. 

Margaery did a swaying, seductive twist as she unzipped her skirt, her shirt following soon after, leaving the brunette in her matching lime green boy shorts and a bandeau. Jon told her to leave those on as he stepped out of his own shoes and socks and asked her to unzip him. Sansa felt herself flush when Margaery lowered to her knees and pulled Jon’s pants down. 

Sansa could only see it from the reflection, but she knew the glorious sight Jon’s torso must have made for Margaery and Joffrey as Jon lifted his shirt off over his head with a smirk, completing the display of masculine perfection. Those hardened abdominals and eye-defying biceps that haunted Sansa’s sleepless nights. A drop of saliva escaped her gaping lip when Margaery reached through the slit in Jon’s tight, dark underwear.

Suddenly with an unprecedented roughness, Jon gripped the back of Margaery’s head and started thrusting, her muffled, choking gurgles giving him no pause. Eventually Margaery seemed to catch up, pressing her hands over Jon’s hips instead of slapping them, scratching her nails under his shoulderblades while Jon twisted her curly chestnut locks between his fingers.

The term skull-fucking sounded so brutal on Dany’s lips when she suggested this part of the Plan, but seeing the act now, Sansa decided it was an apt name.

The squelching, gasping, suction noises caused Sansa’s whole body to ache in awkward way, and even though she knew Margaery had quite the skillset when it came to the oral arts, she couldn’t help but imagine Jon’s size and ferocity overwhelming the less experienced woman. The idea of it kept titillating Sansa’s spine, until Jon’s voice snapped her out of it.

“I’m going to cum, where do you want it?”

Margaery answered by placing her hands over Jon’s, indicating for him to release her. He relented. She slid her mouth off his tip, a trail of sex goop and saliva connecting her chin and his glans as she started twisting and stroking the base. Jon grunted, which became a loud groan when Margaery nuzzled the base of Jon’s cock with that Sorority Pageant Winning Button-Nose of hers, the one that everyone had always complimented Margaery on over and over again in college, now rubbing furiously up along Jon’s outstanding shaft.

Sansa was having complicated feelings. She would file that away later for her therapist to deal with.

He shot the first rope all over the closet door handle, but the rest flew true, covering the mirror in streams of white hot spunk. Joffrey had always shown a homophobic fear of other men’s semen, so seeing it shoot at his face close-range could only do wonders for the boy’s frayed nerves. Sansa had come up with this particular punishment. Jon’s neck was straining as Margaery worked the last few drops out, weak-flowing sprinkles landing on her forehead and cheeks.

“Alright, time to clean that up,” Jon gestured lazily at the mirror.

“What? But I thought…” Margaery’s confusion became a cute huff. “If I knew I was going to be made to clean it up, I would have just swallowed it when I had the chance. I don’t want to lick that mirror. It’s absolutely dusty.”

“Then don’t. Use this.” Jon tossed a jersey from the floor up to Margaery which she caught with cat-like precision. As if she hadn’t had the workout of her young life just a moment ago.

_”Of course Margaery is another sex monster like Daenerys and Arianne.”_

In Margaery’s hands was Joffrey’s King’s Landing Kingsguard hockey team jersey. Sansa knew that Joffrey took pride in little about himself (which is why he had to tear down so many others) but his brief time on the college hockey team her freshman year at KL had been one of his key points of true self-esteem. His jersey was something that he took time to care for and wear whenever he felt confident.

As Margaery used it for a cum rag for Jon’s thick spunk, she bent at the waist at one point to scrub at a inflexible wet spot on the mirror. Her knees were unbent, her legs forming a V-shape so her fanny was showing to the whole room, aside from Joffrey. The boyshorts lifted Margaery’s bubbled cheeks up for the room’s perusal as she started rattling the messy mirror with her awkward ministrations.

Jon seemed intrigued at what he saw by the way he brazenly stroked his slowly reviving member. At one point Margaery pressed her elbows to her chest, making her breasts jiggle in sync with her bottom as she worked. The sight made Sansa a little squirmy. Margaery was a slender woman, long-necked and long-limbed with little meat to hide her ribs, yet she still had sizeable curves. She was a C-Cup, but could easily be a D-Cup if she ate some bread and abandoned her size 0 dresses.

“You’ve paid one debt, but I’m ready for number two.” Jon announced. “I let you treat me sweet, like Sansa does. But now I’m going to show you how I fuck her little sister.”

Jon slipped the lime green underwear to the side before he pressed his tip to Margery’s opening, causing her to freeze as she realized it was happening earlier than anticipated. Jon surged forward. Sansa could see in Margaery’s face the moment he started to enter, but his hips still had some distance from her ass cheeks. Margaery dropped the cumrag to the floor and braced her palms against the mirror, licking her lips.

“Please don’t break me Mr. Snow, you’re so much bigger than my Joffy.”.

“You think Joffrey is being soft on my girls right now?” Jon whispered as he drew back and thrust forward again, still not quite all the way.

“N-no… he’s probably being so rough and mean… especially with their assholes…”

“Like how?” Jon thrusted in. “Tell me.” He slipped back out a bit.

“He wouldn’t go slow, like you are now, he would just-” suddenly Jon thrusted so hard that Margaery’s breasts banged on the glass, “-fuck! He would just fuck her, like th-AGH!”

Jon moved like a man on a mission now, his hips resembling a piston as he drove into Margaery. Meanwhile she melted against the mirror-door of the closet. It wasn’t long before bits of drool, sweat, and cum were sliding on the surface of the glass, every noise and face that Margaery made vibrating through the surface, inches away from Joffrey inside the closet.

Meanwhile from Sansa’s vantage point, Jon’s body was like a coiled snake, his chest parallel with Margaery’s curved spine as he flicked his hips like a whip against her slowly reddening globes. The screams only stopped when they became grunts, Margaery finding the strength to move in rhythm against him.

Sansa didn’t know how long it was, but at some point she noticed her own panties were a wet mess and her heart felt like it would never stop racing. Jon brushed a hand through his hair and drops of sweat dripped off his forehead and onto Margaery’s shoulders.

Margaery herself was a pile of limbs and sweat when Jon abruptly released her hips from his hands. He caught her before she fell completely to the floor, gripping her by the armpits and hoisting her bodily onto the bed. The headboard was near the bathroom where Sansa was but the end of the bed where a footboard would normally be, was only a few feet away from the closet. 

So as Jon laid Margaery on her stomach over those ink-black sheets, her legs dangling, twisted from exhaustion as her manicured toes scrabbled for purchase on the carpet, Joff would have a front row seat to his girlfriend’s ravaged pussy. Long drops of wetness slid down like weeping willows over Margaery’s thighs and onto the bedspread, Sansa saw in the reflection. Jon’s cock, visible as well to Sansa now, was still hard and demanding attention.

“You know what? I think I want you to earn this one.”

He sat next to her on the bed before scooting back until Jon was laying on the dark mattress sheets a little above her. All he did was give Margaery a light tap on the shoulder with two fingers but that was apparently signal enough. She found the energy to drag herself onto hands and knees, until she drifted over Jon’s shapely chest. She tried to slide her panties down but Jon stopped her, opting to simply slide the band away again as he pulled her over his hardness. Margaery gave a belabored sigh before sinking down, her fingers scrambling for purchase on Jon’s shoulders.

“There, now show me what those hips can do.” Jon crossed his arms behind his head, emphasizing his highly-impressive triceps. Sansa also had an excellent view of Margaery’s tortured, drooling gaze as she started bouncing on his lap, but Joff would have an even better view of Jon stretching her out to new limits.

The party was starting all over again…

… when someone knocked on the door.

“Hello? Joff? Are you in there?” Myrcella sounded impatient as she knocked incessantly. “I hear noises so don’t pretend.”

A bile-filled bomb went off in Sansa’s gut. Her entire back felt like cold shards of ice, or maybe glass, cutting down along her spine and over the cheeks of her ass, like panic-induced freezer burn. Her forehead no longer felt hot and cloudy with arousal. A bucket of ice cold reality was ready to fuck her shit up and Sansa’s only clever response was to feel a wave of nausea.

Thankfully Jon and Margaery seemed more ready for disaster. After an awkward moment of pause where the two fornicators looked like some frozen statue dedicated to sin, they pulled apart with muffled groans and sticky protest from their connected skin. Sansa couldn’t quite hear what they were whispering, but whatever it was, they couldn’t plan long as the door knocked again.

“Joff, look, I know you had to go to the E.R. tonight and I really didn’t want to bother you, but I really need to use your shower. Mom’s shower is broken and mine is still spraying brown water. So please?” Myrcella followed her plaintive noises with more knocks and a saltier tone. “Look Joff, you owe me okay?! I wasted the whole afternoon with you in that musty waiting room, and so because your stupid temper, I had to take my daily run late. I am sweaty and I am tired, and I need to take a shower before I go to bed! So open the door!”

A decision was made and a now quickly dressed Jon slid under the bed while Margaery went to grab her shirt, only for the door to then open. It seemed either the lock was no good, or Myrcella had a key of some kind.

“Look Joff, just don’t be naked and we can – oh!”

Myrcella looked stunned but composed as Margaery met her surprise with a crinkled smile in nothing but her undies and a shirt she was holding in her hands.

“Myrcella, hi, I wasn’t um… what are you doing here?” Margaery broke first.

“I was… after Joffrey left to run some errands, I was here alone…” Myrcella spoke with slow and careful words. 

That perfect, golden blonde hair was swept up into a high ponytail. Her sky gray leggings were tight and flattering in every way, with black translucent mesh over the inner thighs and outer calves, drawing the eye nearly as much as the neon yellow boarding, meant to catch car-lights in the dark. The leggings reached all the way up past her navel, the yellow boarders matching the neon yellow color of her sports bra, which seemed two sizes too small for Myrcella’s stacked torso. 

“Margaery, what was all that noise? And why are you in here? Naked?”

Sansa could feel herself hyperventilating but with a goddess-like grace, Margaery gave that familiar smile and the room lit up. The Queen Bee wasn’t dead yet and it seemed lying with charm was still her forte.

“I confess, you caught me having a brain fart moment Cella. I was making such a racket because I was looking for my phone and getting a bit frustrated. I thought I left it in here earlier.”

“Oh,” Myrcella frowned. “But… why are you…?”

“Yes, well, I was getting undressed for bed you see, when I realized my phone was missing. I guess I…” Margaery paused with a laugh, like she thought that what she was about to say was the most ludicrous thing. “I guess I got so caught up looking for it that I never even considered the idea of putting my clothes back on before I started scrounging all around the cabin. Most likely a sign I’ve spent too much time alone this week.”

As she explained the story, Myrcella’s suspicion seemed to thaw. She laughed along with Margaery at such a silly thing happening to her. Soon they were laughing and teasing each other’s past foolish moments like sisters at a sleepover, and Sansa felt a pang of familiarity and envy. Margaery had always had that way with people. She made you feel so bright and noticed, you couldn’t help but want her worldview to succeed in every conversation, because then maybe you really would be as clever and daring as she made you feel.

“Well, anyway, I just wanted to come in and use Joff’s shower, so if you don’t mind…”

“Wait!” Margaery jumped, her composure shaken briefly as she remembered Sansa’s plight. “I just, let me, um…” 

Margaery’s composure was cracking and soon Myrcella’s frown returned. She seemed to notice again that Margaery was holding her own shirt and was about to ask a question about it when a loud and fast-paced k-pop song lit up the room.

“Oh, hold on- oh shit, oh fuck, oh em gee!” Myrcella jumped and gasped as soon as she saw the caller I.D., her suspicions a dust cloud behind her excitement. She almost seemed to forget that Margaery was even in the room. 

“Hello? Oh, JOOOOooooOOOONnn!!! It IS you! Wow! No, no, I’ve just like, never received an actual telephone call on my phone since my dad died. Not like, oh wow, not like you’re my new dad or anything. I mean, you’re not that old, right da- oh shit, what am I saying, this is so embarrassing lawl…”

Like a switch flipped, Myrcella went from breathless and slightly annoyed to the bouncy, almost saccharine sweet kitten that Sansa remembered back at the resort. Sansa deduced that Jon had lent Margaery a distracting hand by making this phone call, but she worried that it was too risky. What if Myrcella noticed the echo from Jon's phone under the bed?

It seemed all their efforts hinged on Jon now. Sansa was just grateful that he seemed to be in control because she knew she wasn’t.

*****

**JON**

_”What the fuck is going on?”_

It was growing apparent to Jon Snow that this whole Plan was now officially off the rails.

So far Jon and Margaery had successfully humiliated and bullied Joff with their brazen and degrading acts of adultery, the illicit performances only fueling their sexual firestorm. Jon didn’t need much motivation with a natural charmer like Margaery Tyrell, but his usual pounding felt particularly motivated, knowing it was being done right in front of that toe-headed sociopath. The dragged out humiliation sweetened the thick taste of their vengeance Plan, though Jon loathed to admit how much he liked that part. More importantly, they were still no closer to getting into Joffrey’s computer and accessing his blackmail files. 

He had managed to find the drugs that Margaery warned them about as possible leverage, but they were currently in the pocket of his jacket, which was insecurely resting on the windowsill. Worse still, the uninhibited presence of Myrcella Baratheon was now mixed up in this stew of deceit and baroque justice.

Myrcella was a sweet girl, clearly more eager than wise but brimming with intellect and an insatiable thirst for more than what she already had. Girls like that always went on to lead either great lives, or ended up targets for the more desperate and ill-tempered elements of the world. Val would have called such thinking, “purity-fetishizing.” Jon could admit he was guilty of that at times.

Jon’s true weakness for the fairer sex though, was for women who had faced such harsh elements of the world and come out the other side only slightly changed, perhaps even at times for the better. Margaery Tyrell had struck him as that type, though Jon had kept his opinions to himself in front of Sansa. He had a feeling that for all the rotten things she had done to Jon’s foster sister, Margaery had only lashed out with a fraction of the suffering she was facing in her own life.

Revenge Plans like this, “Sex Traps” Dany would call them… Jon had thought he was done with this sort of crazy nonsense. First it had been fun with Arianne. That sexpot socialite was one of the few shining lights of fun and lighthearted joy Jon had had after his dark period, post discharge from service. Then when he met Daenerys, Jon was shocked to discover someone even more creatively devious in her gluttony for all things sex and glamor. 

But Sansa had surprised him. Somehow in Jon’s mind, Sansa’s sexuality had always seemed… separate from the rest of her psychology. Like she was capable of seeing sex only in one way, unconnected from all other aspects of her life. It was a naïve thought. Val had been right from the moment she moved in.

Sansa had a hunger that was bubbling up to be explored.

Though she had been careful to declare her motives as wanting justice for Joffrey’s cruelties and a desire to protect future victims from his predation, Jon had spotted it. That twinge of anticipation in her eye that only came with repressing a desire you didn’t want to anyone to see. Long ago, Jon would have done anything to explore that look, to find it at its source and show Sansa the better way, in his opinion.

“That’s a child’s idea of romance,” his therapist would have said to that. Jon had learned that everyone’s path wasn’t always straight, and he wasn’t Sansa’s father. She had asked for his help as a friend, not his advice as a superior. And in some ways, Sansa deserved this, especially after her break up with Harry. After all, Jon could have just said no.

And dammit it all, there was a sexual element to this favor, at least for Jon. There was some… tension between him and Sansa that he didn’t want to face, and no amount of heavy petting or dirty sleepovers could help cool his fervor. He flashed to that same moment he thought of often, when he first came back home to the Stark mansion after his third and final semester of community college, before he’d dropped out to enlist. 

A then 17-year old Sansa had been having a water balloon fight with her girlfriends by the pool, the height of teenage summer fun. Jon had been in the kitchen, cutting himself a slice of Catelyn’s Pecan Pie before he saw them outside the window. Maybe he’d been dazed by the heat, the sunlight giving her an unearthly glow that no human could ever possibly have, but for the first time Jon realized how striking his more distant foster sister truly was. 

That same memory had flashed through Jon’s head when Sansa asked for his help.

And so for her… sex revenge plots were Jon’s life again.

“Twenty minutes? Yeah, totally no problem at all Jon.” The sound of his name shook Jon from his thoughts. “No, I’m not even up to anything right now, I’m like, so bored I could spoon my eyes out, j.k.” 

Myrcella continued to chat with whoever was on the phone, this person she claimed to be him. Jon wracked his brain for the simplest solution but everything just felt too farfetched. Jon was a common name. Maybe she was talking to a different Jon she had met earlier that day? 

“Alright cool, totally awesome, yes. Oh hey, and thanks for being cool about my brother. He’s like, all bark and no bite, I promise.”

Myrcella paused as the phone beeped to indicate the call ended, and then there was silence. Jon watched as the girl’s trainer-clad feet fidgeted and scuffed over the hardwood, while Margaery’s bare left foot tapped a manicured toe expectantly.

“So wait… who was that?”

“It’s this guy he- I met him earlier and- it doesn’t matter.” Myrcella walked toward the door, her attention now drawn miles away from Margaery and her suspicious behavior. “I just realized, I need to shave my- um, my legs. I’ll be right back with my razor, let me know if you find your phone.”

As Myrcella left, the door closing behind her, Margaery’s phone also went off, her ringtone one of the default musical tones. It buzzed in the pocket of her discarded skirt under the bed and she got down on both knees to reach for it. Jon took that as his own cue to crawl out from under the bed.

He skirted over to the door first, ostensibly to listen for Myrcella’s footsteps when in reality he checked that the door to the closet was still locked. At least for now Joff would be contained, even if Myrcella was about to throw everything off-kilter. Jon glanced over at Margaery to see if she was formulating any plans herself, but she was distracted by her phone, seemingly reading a very long text.

“Uh…” Jon helpfully started.

“That was clever of you, calling her like that,” Margaery answered, making a face that didn’t quite match the message she was sending with her tone. “You got me out of having to lie but… why did you tell her that you were coming here?”

“I was just… I needed to come up with a reason for my call… I didn’t think.” Jon didn’t want to admit that that wasn’t him on the phone, in case that made Joffrey’s suspicions rise in anyway.

“Well now she’s expecting you here, and I can’t help but think… I mean for the Mother’s sake Jon, you’re not really going to use that sweet girl for your…”

It took Jon a moment to realize what Margaery was implying, until he remembered his character. The harsh and cruel corrupt cop character that Sansa had written for him had made some pretty big claims about his plans to sexually enslave Margaery, ostensibly in revenge for Joff’s sexual crimes against him and his harem. And now Jon had just lured Myrcella into his orbit…

“No, no, I mean I would never-” Jon started, before he remembered to act with less shame. “That is to say, hey! I don’t need to be messing around with an underage girl. Guy does something like that, it could ruin his professional standing with his fellow officers, is all.”

“Right, well, I know where Joff is, if you want to find him.”

Jon was intrigued. Maybe that text had been from Sansa?

“Where is he?”

“He’s um… he’s back at… oh oops…”

Margaery proceeded to drop her phone in what had to be the worst display of acting ever, but Jon took the hint and picked it up.

“Don’t look at that!” Margaery shouted, her overly dramatic panic somehow being an even more obvious sign.

Jon held the phone away from Margaery, restraining her with one arm though she made it easy by simply struggling against his bicep rather than going for his stomach or shoulder. A quick glance to their reflection showed Jon holding Margaery back with so much casual elegance, even he believed the sight for a moment. It looked like he was literally holding Margaery back with one arm without any strain. It was an exhilarating and threatening fantasy.

As he scrolled through her recent texts, Jon was startled to recognize Dany’s phone number, the most recent message having been sent only a minute ago.

 _”Jon, text with my favorite emoji so I know it’s you on the phone,”_ the last message read.

It was a strange moment but Jon managed to find enough sense to type in the word ‘grumpy’ and use the auto-suggested face, the one Dany always said looked so much like her foster father Willem Darry. He followed that up with a text of question marks.

_“Goody you made it my white stallion,"_ the first text read. " _Pretend you’re getting madder with every text I send Jon, and I will explain everything you need to do next.”_

Jon could only laugh before he tried to turn that into a grunt of feigned fury.

At least someone was in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty enough for you? Wait till you see what happens next...
> 
> Please comment and kudos because they activate endorphins in my brain that motivate me to write rather than watch more Hulu.


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